


Fingernails

by mikeymomoo



Category: One Direction (Band), The 1975 (Band)
Genre: M/M, Other, mrog, this is gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-06-07 05:34:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 11
Words: 34,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6787657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikeymomoo/pseuds/mikeymomoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matty doesn't know what's going on with gender, and George doesn't know anything except how to smoke weed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nail Varnish

**Author's Note:**

> Quick warning that a slur is used repeatedly near the end of this chapter, and probably will be throughout the book.

Matty Healy stepped up the step into the school bus, feeling the thin floor begin to shudder underneath his feet as the vehicle began to retch forward once more. Using the backs of seats as support, Matty strode halfway down the bus, throwing his bag onto the window seat of a free double space, and thumping down onto the aisle seat.

He lifted his legs, bending them at the knees, and rested his feet flat against the back of the seat in front, trying not to push hard enough that they would notice the pressure against their seat. He began to trace absent-minded patterns on his left knees through his skinny jeans, enjoying the gentle sensation of contact.

Matty was almost tempted to go to sleep: he didn't have any friends on his bus- his group was a little _exclusive_. They weren't mean, per se, and they wouldn't avoid holding a conversation with someone if the other started it, but they certainly wouldn't walk up to someone who wasn't in their little clique and strike up a conversation. It just wasn't _done_.

He didn't, though. Instead, he unzipped his back pack, reaching a hand into the canvas bag and feeling around for something to do. It was midway through the school year: February, and so his bag had accumulated a large amount of bollocks, hence Matty was pretty sure he could find _something_ to occupy the twenty-minute journey.

After a few moments, his fingers brushed against a small glass bottle. He lifted it out, feeling the cool surface press against the pads of his fingertips: the black nail varnish that was left in his bag from last weekend.

Without really thinking about it, he began to unscrew the bottle, wincing at the harsh smell of chemicals as it breezed through the air. He carefully began to apply the liquid to his nails, trying not to get any on his skin whenever the bus went over a pothole or some other bump in the road.

He hadn't worn nail varnish to school before, and hadn't really planned to ever do so: his friends weren't particularly open-minded, and while they had seemed to be okay with his being bisexual, he wasn't sure that they would be so kind if he told them he wasn't sure about his gender- _in fact_ , he didn't expect they were aware of there being any genders other than boy and girl at all.

But by the time he realised that they might not be completely okay with this 'femininity' he was giving himself, it was too late: his nails were already coloured, and he had no remover with him. If he were being completely honest with himself, he would admit that one of the girls around him would have nail varnish remover on them, but, if he were being equally as honest, he would also point out that he didn't really care.

Because, if any of us are being honest with ourselves, what's the point in being that popular anyway? Matty was certain that as long as he had one or two people close enough to have his back, he wouldn't have a problem, and even if all the people he was friends with left him, he wouldn't have any trouble finding new friends.

And as Matty was gazing at his freshly-painted fingernails, a boy he had never spoken to was watching him from a few seats behind, gazing with his head tilted slightly to the right, admiring Matty's hands and legs and hair.

The boy watching didn't mean to be weird, or _creepy_ : it was just that he found Matty Healy to be truly beautiful; a sight which he could not bring himself to look away from, despite Marika chattering away to him by his side.

"-And so I told her that I'm into her in this text, and she didn't reply for, like, half an hour, which was very stressful, but then I got a notification and I was like ' _fucking finally_ ', and I totally expected complete rejected because Amber's always been so gal-pal-y with me, but it turned out she's totally into me too, isn't that awesome, George?"

George just hummed in agreement, not utterly sure what he was replying too, but feeling that a response was probably necessary, no matter how half-hearted it was. Apparently this logic was wrong, however, judging by the soft punch to the shoulder he received.

"For Christ's sake, George, I get a girlfriend and all you do is shrug?"

He snapped his head to face Marika, his eyes lingering on Matty for a moment after his head moved before flicking over to look at the girl next to him. "That's awesome, Marika."

She rolled her eyes, turning away from him to face the window, not looking back even when George placed a hand on her shoulder. "It really is, I promise- I'm sorry, I was just, um." George paused, searching for the right word for 'staring at a cute boy while he paints his fingernails', and failing to find one that fit. "Just distracted. I'm really happy for you, love."

Marika relaxed her shoulders, shaking her head gently, a smile spreading across her face. She turned back to George, leaning into his side. "I know you were: would have been hard to miss, the way you were eyeballing old Healy over there."

George's eyes widened, and he ran a distressed hand through his hair, staring at her in shock: in his mind, he had been being subtle, and even if he hadn't been, Marika had been too caught up in her own speech to notice. _Of course_ it didn't happen the way he had hoped, but honestly, he was never the luckiest guy.

"Fuck me- I mean, don't, but _fuck_ \- you can't tell anyone, okay?"

Marika giggled, shifting her weight to lean against the window instead of George's warm flesh. "Of course I won't. I mean, _maybe_ I'll tell Amber, but that's how relationships work, George: you tell each other secrets, not that you'd know about relationships, am I right?"

George shook his head, his vision falling back on Matty as he brushed his hair away from his face, wincing as he realised his nails might not be dry yet and crunching his arm back down to stare intently at his fingernails. After close inspection, he was satisfied that the paint was intact, and went back to staring absent-mindedly out the bus window.

"Go fuck yourself, Marika, it's not like I don't know how to talk to people."

"We both know that's a lie- when was the last time you made a new friend, huh?"

George crossed his arms, resolutely not looking at Matty or Marika for the rest of the journey to school.

~~~  
  


Matty sauntered through the corridors after registration, his bag on his back once more as he made his way to his English class. His shoes scraped against the coarse carpet, and he frowned slightly as he realised he wasn't really friends with anyone in English. Sure, he spoke to the people either side of him, but really only for practical reasons: it was always good to have someone you can stand to be with for anything using partners.

He shuffled into the classroom, weaving between the rows of desks and sitting sideways on his chair once he reached his assigned seat, shrugging his bag off onto the floor behind him. He span on his chair to face the front of the room, shunting it forwards to sit under the desk.

Matty began to rap his fingertips on the table, making up imaginary drum beats as he did so. After a few moments, Amber Bain slung her shoulder bag down next to Matty's chair, sliding into her own to his left. She pulled her English folder out of her bag, managing to put it down so that it slid onto Matty's half of the desk, causing the boy to unashamedly push it back onto her side of the desk- he was very protective of his desk space; we all know those fucking two-seater desks aren't big enough for two people anyway.

"Alright, Matty?" She spoke while peering into her bag to find her pencil case.

"Alright." Amber plucked her pencil case from the canvas bag, placing it on top of her folder before slapping her hand down on Matty's, forcing him to cease his tapping. " _Fuck_."

Matty pulled his hand out from under Amber's, shaking it out: he hadn't expected her to put so much effort into stopping him. "Was that _really_ necessary, mate?"

Amber shrugged, taking a biro out of her pencil case and starting to doodle on the back of her hand. Crossing his arms, Matty shook his head at her, grinning widely. He began to swing back on his chair, nodding at Gemma James and Nick Grimshaw as they walked in together, sitting either side of Matty and Amber.

"You'll break your neck one day, mate." Nick gestured at Matty's chair legs, Matty proceeding to roll his eyes, but lean back forwards all the same.

"Well, aren't you just the best father-figure I've ever had, eh?"

Nick snorted, shaking his head at the boy as their teacher, Mrs Gardiner, walked in. She walked around, pushing a sheet of paper with questions on the latest chapter of the book they were studying, Spies, on each of their desks. After telling the class to work through the questions quietly- "Plug yourselves in if you want to," she went on to sit behind her desk, looking at her iPhone for the entire lesson.

~~~  
  


Matty's morning lessons were all with Nick, so the pair walked out of the door of their French classroom to go to lunch after fifth period: it was a sort of ritual by this point in the year; the boys had found they got on pretty well from the first lesson they had together, which had only been this school year, and it wasn't like they spoke outside of lessons, but it was a favourable arrangement for both of them.

"Alright, Grimmy, see you later." Matty departed from the younger boy _(a/n ik he's older irl shh)_ to skip the lunch queue, having spotted a few of his friends in the middle of the queue. "Hey, Henry. Joe."

"Alright, mate." Matty slipped into the queue behind Joe, muttering a quick apology to whoever was behind him, and picked up a sandwich and an apple on the way to the till. Handing over a five pound note to the man behind the till, Matty followed Joe and Henry to the table where their other friends were sitting and talking.

He slipped into the chair at the end of the table, beginning to pick at the thin plastic on the front of the sandwich box, peeling it off with a rip.

"Matty, mate," Henry started. "What the hell is on your nails?"

Matty frowned, curling his fingers and raising his hand to instead his fingernails.

"Oh, that," Matty shrugged. "Found some nail varnish on the bus this morning, figured I'd try it out. I dunno, I kinda like it."

His friends around the table began to snigger, Joe full-out snorting at this comment. "You fucking fag. You look like a girl, mate."

"Yeah, fuck off with this shit, Healy. Doesn't matter if you think your bisexual or whatever, but you don't have to look like a fag as well."

Looking down at the cress and tomato sandwich, Matty felt tears begin to burn at his eyes, forcing himself to blink normally, trying to stop any more tears forming. Slowly, cautiously, he took one of the triangular sandwich halves from the box, holding it in both hands and bringing it to his mouth. He took a bite and lowered it once more, haltingly closing his eyes.

"What do you want me to do about it? It's not like I've got any remover."

When there was no reply from anyone around the table, Matty opened his eyes once more, only to feel Henry and Joe on either side of him, gripping his arms and lifting him out of his seat. "What the _fuck_ are you doing?"

"You're gonna make us look bad, Healy. Fuck off with your pretty-boy make up, alright?" Matty looked Henry in the eyes as he spoke, feeling a hot tear spill over his waterline. He bit the inside of his lip, ripping his arms from their grip, and continuing to stare at him as he began to walk away, looking away once he passed the taller boy.

As he left the table, he heard the boys at the table chuckling again, fuelling him only to walk faster. Thrusting the doors open, he exited the lunch room, heading straight for the nearest toilets.

Turning the corner to the loos, he turned his back to the door to the men's room, pushing it open by walking backwards. He went straight to the sinks, putting his hands either side of the basin closest to the wall and leaning forwards, staring at his reddening eyes in the mirror as more tears threatened to spill.

"Fuck." He murmured, swinging himself around to hit the wall with his back, allowing his head to fall backwards against the hard surface. His eyes forced themselves shut once more, another tear squeezing between his thick eyelashes as he sighed, bringing his palms up to rub his face slowly, undoubtedly reddening his face more than the humiliation by his friends had already done.

"I'm a fucking idiot, I swear to god." Fluttering his eyes open once more, Matty pushed his head backwards to look up at the ceiling, his back arching away from the wall so that his scalp rested against the wall. He stared at the tiled ceiling, wondering how one of the tiles up there had cracked.

Breathing deeply, Matty remained like this for a minute or so, until the door swung open. Panicking, Matty rushed back to the basin, turning on the taps to wash his hands and trying to appear less flustered than he was in reality.

"Hey, mate, it's alright. You don't have to pretend, I, uh- I watched you come in here, I didn't mean to spook you, but..." George took a breath, moving towards the panic-stricken boy in infinitesimal steps. "I know it sucks when your friends don't _get_ you, you know? I've never really been there, but I'm pretty empathetic, I guess..." He shut his eyes, grimacing. "Sorry. I've never really been good at, uh, talking."

Matty frowned, looking up at the older boy, smiling a little at his words. "You're lucky, mate. If you've never had-" he gestured up and down his body- " _this_ happen to you."

George approached Matty with more confidence now, taking his reply as a sign of openness. He reached over and placed a hand on Matty's back, between his shoulder blades. "You'll be okay, dude. Is there anything I can do? I haven't got any nail varnish remover, but..."

Matty chuckled dryly at his attempt at humour before launching into a full-on hug, pressing his chest, thighs, toes, against the other boy's. George was somewhat taken aback, but wrapped his arms around Matty all the same.

When Matty eventually pulled away, it was a moment before either spoke. "Um, thank you. What's your name, I guess?"

George grinned at the question, a little overwhelmed to say the least: it wasn't like he had no clue who Matty was, having been intrigued by the boy since they started secondary school almost five years ago. "George. Well, George Daniel."

Matty smiled at the awkward boy, pulling him in for another hug. "I'm Matty." He paused. "Healy."


	2. Varnish Remover

George and Matty hadn't sat together on the bus home that day, despite their earlier meeting, but George had gone home with a smile on his face and a new number saved in his phone. He walked through the door just after four pm, so his mum was still at work, allowing him to throw his bag down next to the sofa and run upstairs to grab a spliff before she got home.

He shrugged on a thin coat from the back of his bedroom door, and opened the desk draw that contained his weed and papers, shoving them in his pockets before skipping back down the stairs, shutting his bedroom door behind him. He picked a lighter up from the dresser in the living room, along with his keys, which he put in his pocket alongside the weed.

George locked the door behind him, and started off towards the park just down the road from his house. Pretty much everything in this particular park had either been broken or vandalised, and the council had done nothing to clear it up. His neighbourhood didn't have enough of a community to deal with it themselves, so it was almost always abandoned: the swing chains had been detached, there was graffiti all over the slide- some of which George had contributed to, along with his friends.

He climbed up the short ladder the lead up to the little wooden castle thing that the slide was attached to, before hopping and pulling himself up onto its roof.

Sitting there on the small wooden platform, George rolled a spliff, putting the end between his lips and lighting it with his hand cupped around the visible end. Putting the lighter back in his pocket, George took the spliff between two fingers, inhaling the drug and holding it, waiting for his lungs to burn with the need to release the carbon dioxide and alien smoke. Exhaling, George leaned his head back, smiling as he blew the smoke from his life.

He swung his legs over the edge of the platform, leaning back slightly, keeping himself up with his free hand. He loved this spot: the park was just inside a forest, so no one could really see you when you sat up here, but you could still see around.

George gazed at the sky, admiring the pale grey colour as the white clouds drifted across the canvas. He couldn't help but wonder what Matty was doing: he wouldn't be surprised if Matty was sprawled out with a spliff in a similar fashion to himself; perhaps on his bed, or draped across a sofa. He found himself picturing Matty's hair in a sort of halo around his head as he lay on his bed, spliff between his fingers and lips, the other arms spread out to the side, his knees bent up, with Matty wearing skinny jeans and a tank top- _fuck it_ , shirtless.

Grinning, he shook the image from his imagination as he felt his phone buzz in his back pocket: for a moment, he scrambled to find it, excited that it might be Matty texting, but it turned out to be his friends on their group chat. He didn't check the messages; the chat was mostly memes and shit talking, if he was honest with himself.

He sighed, taking another drag from the spliff, his mind drifting around his earlier conversation with Matty. He had seemed so _distressed_ , and honestly, George couldn't figure out why Matty's friends had been so rude to the beautiful boy. Well, _no_ \- he knew exactly why; none of them had ever been the most accepting of people. George could remember when Matty had come out as bisexual to most of their year on Facebook, and his friends had a few issues with even that for a while.

George wasn't sure what sort of arrangement they'd come to, but he hadn't seen Matty with a partenr ever since: he suspected they had told Matty to keep his private life _private_.

The brunet couldn't help but to wonder about why Matty had chosen to paint his nails: not that he thought there was anything wrong with it, in fact, George was of the opinion that it suited him very much, but Matty must have _known_ that his friends wouldn't take it lightly. He supposed that perhaps Matty had been trying to judge their reactions, or had forgotten that his friends were that-way-inclined, or maybe he was just experimenting: really, George had only just met the guy, he was in no place to judge.

The incessant buzzing caused by the group chat and George having left his 3G turned on prompted the boy to pick up his phone again, checking the time. Nearly five: his mum would finish work at five, and be home at half past, so he had time to stay a while longer. He turned off mobile data, ceasing the notifications, and placed the phone next to him on the platform with the intent of finishing his spliff in peace.

~~~  
  
Matty pushed open their unlocked back door, having forgotten to take his keys to school, only to have his three-year-old brother Louis bumble into him, hugging Matty's legs just above his knees.

"Hey, Lou." Matty chuckled, gently placing his hand on Louis' head. "Hey, Mum," he added, when he saw his mother sitting on the sofa in the living room through the open door.

"Hi, love. How was school?"

Matty steadfastly kept his smile on his face, though the expression thinned. "It was great, Mum, yeah."

"Good, good."

Figuring that the conversation was over, Matty leaned down to pick up Louis, who wrapped his legs around Matty's waist. "What about you, little guy? How was pre-school?"

Louis grinned, chattering excitedly. "It was _awesome_ , this new girl called Holly started, and she's _so cool_!"

"That's great, buddy, I'm glad you're still making friends." Louis giggled, allowing Matty to bounce him a little before putting him down and letting him run over to Denise, clambering up to sit next to her on the sofa.

"Mum, have you got any nail varnish remover?"

Denise looked up, frowning slightly in confusion. "Of course I have, love. What for?"

Matty wiggled his fingers at her, grimacing: Denise chuckled at the sight. "It's in my make up bag, in the top drawer of my dresser." Matty began to step towards the staircase before she spoke again. "Why do you have any on, anyway?"

He paused, wavering between telling the truth and telling a lie. "It was a dare. Grimmy didn't think I'd keep it on for the whole day, so Amber painted them and I couldn't fail." Denise nodded, shrugging, and allowed her son to continue on his way to his room.

Trudging up the stairs to enter his mum's room, Matty sighed, his friends' reactions setting in once more as he realised that he was going to struggle to do this again. Honestly, he wasn't certain why he liked wearing nail varnish at all: he'd discovered a liking for it a few months ago, enjoying the way it made him feel almost elegant. He had a few colours, but black felt like the least conspicuous, since it wasn't such a feminine colour.

Although, he supposed that whether or not the colour was 'feminine' didn't really matter- the other colours he had were certainly much less masculine, unless pastel colours had become macho without him knowing about it, which Matty highly doubted.

As he rummaged through Denise's dresser looking for her make up bag, he wondered whether his liking of nail varnish was something else entirely: not just an aesthetic need, but something _different_. Equally, he wondered if it was just a want to defy the gender norms that were enforced so strongly by his friends.

In fact, he'd often had periods of time during which he was much less masculine than others: for several years now, he had been bending the allowances of the school uniform, wearing tight black jeans instead of the regulation trousers, and he supposed that his long hair didn't help him to seem masculine in the slightest. He just enjoyed looking _good_ , and he didn't see that there was anything wrong with that.

Matty finally felt the plastic make up bag, pulling it out of the drawer and unzipping it. He tugged out the nail varnish remover and some cotton wool pads, leaving the bag open on top of the dresser for when he was done.

He shuffled out and into his own room, sitting on his bed- a mattress on the floor, covered by a grey duvet, and unscrewed the nail varnish lid, placing a cotton wool pad on top and turning it upside down, soaking the cotton.

Matty began to dab at his nails with the foul-smelling liquid. There was a part of him that, despite the reactions of his friends, was reluctant to remove this aspect of individuality, and was almost sad that he felt he had to do so.

Once the colour was removed from his fingernails, Matty set the bottle and remaining cotton wool on his desk, and lay down on his mattress, inspecting his bare nails. He felt oddly uncomfortable now without the colour, as if the varnish had been a strange sort of life source for Matty, fuelling him.

He rolled over onto his side, bending his knees up so that his thighs were perpendicular to his hips, bringing his arms across his stomach so that he was almost embracing himself. Ever-so slowly, he close his eyes, the bright light of his room dampening and distorting through his eyelids like running watercolours.

Maybe there was something wrong with him; maybe his friends were right, and he should just ignore the urge to change his appearance. In fact, maybe this urge would simply disappear, and if Matty were honest with himself, he couldn't see that it would be a bad thing if it did.

His thoughts were cut short by his phone buzzing in his pocket. He sighed, reaching around to extract the device from his jeans, pulling it out to see a text from an unknown number. Unlocking his phone, he read the text, realising it was probably from George.

_-wanna meet up? idk if ur feeling better but if ur not ive got weed + there's this cool place where i smoke_

Matty chuckled; there was no doubt in his mind that George wouldn't have sent such a forward message had he not already been high, and while he was tempted, he wasn't sure he was up for it today: he'd never smoked anything before, and he wasn't certain that it was the best time to start when he was feeling so _off_.

In all honestly, he wished he knew _why_. Matty was certain that he couldn't be a girl: that just didn't seem _right_ , but he didn't always feel like a boy, either. He supposed that there had to be a reason for his longing to look more feminine some days, and for the fact that sometimes neither masculinity or femininity seemed to fit, but a part of him wondered if it was just a wish to rebel against what he had always been told to be.

Matty was absolutely sure that he _could not_ be transgender- not that he would be ashamed of it, just because he _couldn't be_.

He allowed himself to wonder whether he could be wrong about that, though. Maybe he had been denying himself from realising who he was; maybe he just hadn't done enough research to work out if he could identify with being transgender. In a way, Matty thought that perhaps he was simply too scared to find out any more on the topic: he supposed that he knew that he would identify with it, at least to a degree; there were definitely days when he wasn't comfortable in his own body.

Matty frowned, rolling over again onto his back, his legs bent upwards. He ran his fingers over his face, pushing the tips of his fingers gently into his eyes, squeezing them shut as he did so. He breathed deeply, sighing it out through gently parted lips.

Normally, he would be on the phone to one of his friends, or they'd all be sitting in a circle in a park, playing music obnoxiously loudly from their mini speakers, but none of his friends had contacted him since lunch period.

He finally gave in to replying to George: he felt bad about ignoring the message, and honestly, he was getting lonely now.

_Where is it? Guessing you're George._

Matty quickly saved George's number as a contact- G- and watched his conversations screen until George replied, their conversation lighting up.

_come 2 my house, ill show u where it is_

George texted Matty his address, prompting him to swing his legs off the mattress, stand up, and pull on a thin sweater over his t-shirt. He ran down the stairs, slotting his phone into his back pocket, and called out to his mum, telling her to call him when tea was nearly ready, and that he wasn't sure how long he'd be otherwise.

It had turned out that George's house was a fifteen minute walk away- only the next stop after Matty's on the way back from school on the bus, but two minutes or so into his walk, Matty's phone buzzed again with another message from George.

_hurry upppppppp_

Matty smiled wryly, shaking his head as he typed out a reply.

_Someone's needy._

_u know it_

_~~~  
_

When Matty finally approached George's house, the boy was sitting against the gate to the scrawny front garden, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a spliff to his lips: now that he was sixteen, he could tell his parents and enquiring neighbours that it was a cigarette if they got too pushy. Matty stood silently for a moment: watching as the older boy exhaled slowly, smoke curling from his lips and dancing around his features. His eyes were closed against the dulling light of early evening, and Matty couldn't help but stare.

When George's eyelids fluttered open, Matty stepped forwards, the sound of his footstep breaking the silence and causing George to glance over at him instinctively. At the sight of the younger boy, George grinned, and leaned forwards, beginning to stand. When his legs straightened, he used his spare hand to brush down the back of his legs, ridding his jeans of any dirt from the ground as he moved towards Matty.

"Spliff?"

Matty shook his head, biting his lip as he watched George push the hand holding his spliff towards Matty, the corner of his mouth turning up as George's expression fell.

"Not that I'm against it, mate- it's totally fine. It's not like I would've come otherwise, is it?"

George shrugged, a little disappointed that Matty wouldn't share his weed. "There's always another time, right?"

A light pink tinged Matty's cheeks as he formulated a reply. "I've, um. I've never smoked anything before, to be honest, George, so, uh..." He stuttered, not wanting to let George down so fast.

Although, if anything, this sentence perked George up a fair bit: it wasn't like Matty was declining because he thought George was disgusting, simply because this wasn't something he was used to, which somewhat surprised George, considering the company that Matty kept.

"Here, come on," George continued regardless of this setback. "I'll take you to the park."

Matty raised an eyebrow, now a little disapproving. "You smoke _weed_ in a _kids' park_?"

This provoked a chuckle to erupt from George's chest, and he giggled as he spoke. "No- of course not- I mean, technically, _yeah_ , but it's been abandoned for ages now. Too much graffiti to be child-friendly; my friends and I kind of adopted it, I guess, like a huge fucking foster family. Dunno who the parents are, though." George frowned as this dawned upon him, genuinely distressed by the lack of parent figures in the park's life.

"...Sure." Matty tugged on George's arm, shaking him back to some sort of reality with the motion. "Where's this fucking kids' park then, huh?"

When the boys reached the park, Matty spent a good ten minutes waiting for George to finish running up the ladder and jumping down the slide before they ran over to the see-saw. Matty found it extraordinarily difficult to persuade George not to roll another spliff before they sat on it, but pointed out that if he dropped it, it could _totally_ set fire to the grass, which would _absolutely_ spread to the see-saw, which would _of course_ kill both of them.

"Shit- yeah, of course Matty, you're right- fuck, I could have killed us, I'm so sorry, I don't know what I was thinking, honestly."

Matty smiled gently, in a way that was meant to seem comforting, and seemed to have that effect on a high George, but to anyone else would probably have been a somewhat alarming expression, all wide-eyed, tilted head, and lopsided smile.

"Come on, mate, don't worry about it." George grinned at the words, swinging his leg over one end of the see-saw and waiting for Matty to hop on the other side. "Want me to go down first?"

George giggled, covering his mouth with his hand at the accidental euphemism, causing Matty to roll his eyes, stifling a laugh at the boy's silly behaviour and suddenly moving his feet so that his weight pushed down into the ground, throwing George's end of the see-saw into the air.

George gasped at the motion, feeling his stomach flip-flop as he flew upwards, his mouth morphing into a wide, open-mouthed smile as Matty pushed back up off the ground, flinging himself into the atmosphere- or not, as the case may have been, but he had a good few inches of air between his arse and the metal see-saw, which was close enough.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think im gonna loosely aim for like an update a week but im in the middle (well the start lmao) of my GCSEs atm + while i dont really care abt results i need 2 get into 6th form lmao so i wanted 2 get this out before the 5 exams i have next week
> 
> lex x


	3. Removal Vans

"So, have you seen him again?" Harry questioned.

George shook his head as he swung back on his chair while they waited for their Maths teacher, Mr Ross, to arrive. "Not since I went to his house on Tuesday."

Matty hadn't spoken much to George for precisely nine days after they went to the park together, only replying to texts occasionally and briefly, never starting a conversation, before inviting him round his place all of a sudden on Tuesday.

"You know, mate, if he's gonna play all hot and cold with you, he's not worth it."

Harry rolled his eyes as Nick spoke: he was a fine one to talk; Harry had been flirting with him for months now, and while, most of the time, Nick reciprocated this behaviour, there were days when he simply ignored it. Harry wasn't sure whether he was blind, or scared, or just confused, but you'd think that a bisexual boy flirting with a gay boy would be a pretty obvious sign of affection.

Apparently not to Nick.

"He's right, you know," Ross added, looking up from his phone. "If he's being problematic now, you have to be careful in case he gets worse."

George blinked slowly, smiling contentedly at his friends' protective nature. "You're not my collective dad, guys."

"I mean, Harry and I practically are," Nick retorted. "We basically figured out your sexuality _for_ you."

George nodded sagely: that much was true; when he had first had a crush on a boy in year nine, he had turned to Nick and Harry who had already been out- separately out, not out together, because that would be _absurd_ , of _course_.

"I think he is worth it, though."

Harry raised an eyebrow, cocking his head as he regarded the younger boy. "If you're sure, mate. Just remember who he's friends with, yeah?"

"They were fine with him being bi, Harry." George looked away, not wanting to continue eye contact as he avoided the subject of the nail varnish incident.

"Yeah, but that's not all, is it?"

"Nothing's ever simple with you, is it?" He glanced back at the curly-haired boy, still avoiding looking into his eyes, but making some sort of effort, at least. "Look, Matty _isn't_ going to hurt me, he's a lovely boy. You know that, you sat with him in Chemistry last year- remember?"

Harry sighed, swivelling in his chair to face the front, and leaned back into his seat, folding his arms across his chest as he watched Mr Ross enter the classroom. "I suppose."

"Right- yes, of course- I'll talk to you later, hun- sure, yeah. Bye, Brennie. Love you."

Mr Ross smiled at his phone as he disconnected the call, dropping it on his desk to write _Differentiation_ in a garish orange on the board, grinning as he did so.

~~~  
  


Marika had her head resting on Amber's shoulder, the top of her head pushing gently into Amber's neck: they had taken their Maths GCSE a year early, and had since refused to do Further Maths.

They were sitting on a small sofa in the common room, Marika trying to persuade Amber to bunk off lessons with her.

"I still have some weed left, if that'll change your mind."

Amber snorted, twisting her head so her nose pressed into Amber's throat. "While I wouldn't normally say no to that, I'm not missing lessons, like, not when we only have three months until exams. You know how I did in the mocks."

Shaking her head, Marika chuckled: Amber was always one to worry needlessly about her results. "Yeah, I know how you got nothing below a B. You'll be fine, love." The pet name rolled effortlessly off Marika's tongue; it was nothing either of them weren't used to: they'd been calling each other by pet names for a while now anyway, and they'd been together for all of nine days now, which definitely constituted a Serious Relationship.

"Shut up," Amber retorted; she knew she didn't really have anything to worry about, but she didn't want to let anyone down. "You know what my dad's like, he got all As so I can't get anything less."

Marika sighed. She hated how Amber's parents set these standards: they weren't exactly _bad_ parents- not that Marika had seen, at least, but it meant that Amber became unnecessarily stressed about all sorts of things.

"It's going to be all right, Amber." Lifting her hand to run her fingers through Amber's hair, Marika continued. "I mean, at the end of the day, all GCSEs are is a set of letters of a piece of paper to get you into college, and it's not like we applied to the most exclusive colleges in the world, is it?"

Amber attempted to wriggle further into her girlfriend's grip, pushing her head backwards into Marika's caressing fingers.

"S'pose."

"That's the spirit!" Marika moved her other arm to encircle Amber's shoulders, pulling her completely into her in an almost smothering grip. She could hear Amber's light chuckles as she squeezed Marika back, not being able to help herself from joining in, giggling.

When Amber's laughter trembled into silence and she released a deep sigh, Marika realised that maybe Amber was more stressed than she'd realised. She pressed her palm against Amber's spine, running it up and down slowly.

"What is it, love?"

Amber simply buried her face further into Marika's sternum, turning her head to the side so she could hear Marika's heart beat, which was gradually speeding up as she waited anxiously for Amber's reply.

Amber took a deep breath, inhaling the oxygen gradually, taking in small amounts at a time until her lungs were so full they burned, before releasing it in a moment with a huff.

"It's just my parents. Nothing to worry about." She paused, inhaling slowly once more. "I mean, I need to worry about it, but..."

"Hey, you can tell me, Amber. I promise I'll listen."

Amber frowned in response, shifting so that she was straddling her girlfriend, burying her face in Marika's shoulder once more, only this time from above. "My mum's leaving my dad."

Her voice came out muffled as her mouth moved against Marika's clothed skin, so much so that Marika had to run the sounds over in her head several times before fully comprehending them as words.

"Fuck." She breathed quietly, squeezing the blonde sitting on top of her. "Are you gonna stay with your dad, or what?"

Nodding, Amber took in another, shaky breath, finding it difficult to think of speaking any further when she was finding it so hard to contemplate the prospect of her mother leaving, let alone speak openly about it.

"How are you... Doing, I guess? Can't be nice at home, can it?"

Amber shrugged half-heartedly, in such a gesture that made Marika want to cry. "Dad's struggling a bit. It's fine, though, we'll be fine, I'm just..." She spoke softly, barely making any noise. "I'm just gonna miss her." Her final words were almost inaudible, Marika's ears physically twitching as she tried to latch on to Amber's speech.

"When's she going?"

Amber licked her lips, tugging her bottom lip between her teeth nervously at the thought. "The removal vans are taking her stuff to her new flat next week."

For a few minutes, Marika struggled to think of anything that would even partially be a comfort to her girlfriend, racking her skull to work out what she would want to hear in Amber's situation, coming up with nothing but cheese.

"It's going to be okay, Amber. You're my best fucking friend, you know that?" Amber looked up at her words, Marika offering a gentle smile in return.

"I..." Amber sighed, not entirely sure what to say. "Thank you."

There was a pause, an almost uncomfortable silence before Amber spoke again. "You still up to skipping lessons?"

Marika's smile widened as Amber shuffled off her lap to stand up. "Fuck yeah."

~~~  
  


Matty skipped out on lunch again that day, choosing once more to sit in the common room that was currently empty except for him, and Nick and Harry, who were sitting at an awkward distance apart on the other side of the room, looking like they both wanted to shuffle closer.

He couldn't help but chuckle quietly at the pair as he spooned yoghurt into his mouth, doing that thing where you kind of chew it even though it's yoghurt so you don't need to but it just feels weird if you don't, you know?

Once he finished his yoghurt and tupperware filled with pineapple, he pulled the book he was doing for his English exam out of his bag, skimming through the chapters once more in an attempt to solidify the story in his mind. Honestly, it was total shit, and if nothing else, massively creepy: no one needs this much phallic symbolism in a book about a bunch of ten-year-olds.

As he flicked over chapter eight, he caught movement in his peripheral vision. Looking up, he watched as Henry and Joe entered the room, smiling as they did so. When they noticed him watching, they looked at each other, their expressions dropping as they strode over to Matty.

Matty continued to watch as they got closer, keeping his lips firmly closed as they approached and sat to his right.

"You ready for the French test today?" Henry questioned, a small frown decorating Matty's features as he shrugged. "Man, I'm fucked. Forgot to revise my imperfect tense."

Joe and Henry continued chatting, occasionally attempting to include Matty in the conversation, and pretending he wasn't ignoring them in favour of trying to study.

Finding it hard enough to concentrate on his book as it was, Matty physically jumped when his phone buzzed harshly in the back pocket of his non-regulation skinny jeans. He started to reach for it, catching himself when he realised it was probably George, which probably wouldn't do him any favours if Henry and Joe were trying to make amends.

"It's alright, mate, you're allowed to look at your phone." Henry had seen Matty's automatic movement to take his phone, and the flinch away from his pocket as he stopped himself. "We're not going to stop you having friends- you know that, right?"

Joe seemed to have gone quiet when Henry said this, but Matty didn't really notice. "Nah, it's fine- it can probably wait. They'll call if it's important."

And, just like that, Matty was ready to slip back into the comfortable lie that he had surrounded himself with like a blanket. He was prepared to continue blocking out his thoughts on gender for now, now that he realised he couldn't really cope without the boys being there for him.

"Honestly, Matty, it's fine." There was a silence for going on a minute before he continued. "Fuck, I just- _we_ feel awful about the other day." He glanced over at Joe, gesturing sharply towards Matty with his head. " _Don't we_?"

"Yeah. Of course."

As Henry turned his head back to face Matty, a smile forming across his cheeks, Joe stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulder from where he had placed it on his feet. "I have a speaking lesson."

Joe left the room after that, practically running out the door as the common room filled up with people who finished their lunch.

"Don't really know what's up with him, to be honest. I know we were both out of line- me especially, but I think you just confused us, you know? I mean, you know how my parents are about any of... _that_ stuff."

Matty smiled comfortingly, reaching out an arm to embrace Henry's shoulders in a gentle squeeze before letting go, allowing his arm to drop back to his side. He tucked his book into his bag before swivelling his body to face Henry, bringing his legs up onto the seat to sit cross-legged. "Yeah, mate. I get it."

"Look, I-" Henry sighed in frustration, unsure as to how to word anything that he wanted to get across: he wasn't particularly eloquent, but he normally meant what he said, which had made their previous encounter even harder for Matty to bear. "I didn't mean any of it. I promise. It's just that I all but failed my mocks, you know? And it's so fucking hard to bring my grades up this late, and there's just a lot going on."

"It's fine, Hen. I'm over it."

Henry erupted into a grin once more, practically jumping into Matty's arms in a hug. "Cheers, Healy."

"No worries."

Matty had just hooked his chin over Henry's shoulder, growing comfortable, when his phone began to buzz once more, this time because he was getting a call. "You should get that, might be important."

Matty sighed, drawing back to retrieve his phone. Glancing down at the caller ID, Matty swiped his finger across the screen to accept the call: it was George.

His thoughts were a mess as he touched _accept_ : he should have read the text, there could be something wrong- from what he knew, George _hated_ speaking on the phone, so Matty hadn't expected to hear from him like this except for in an emergency.

However, he was utterly calmed when George's words drifted through the speaker: "Hey, man, just wanted to check up on you. Figured you would've replied to that text." George followed his speech with a light-hearted but almost nervous chuckle.

"Yeah- I'm fine, sorry about not replying, I was, uh- I was just in the middle of _something_."

"Shit, sorry-" George's voice came out panicked and apologetic at the idea that he had interrupted his friend. "I can just text you later. Sorry."

Just as George was about to hang up, Henry nudged Matty into speaking once more, having been listening to the conversation by leaning right into Matty's side in order to be close enough to the phone to hear.

"Wait- um, do you want to stay over mine tonight? My mum won't give a shit- it's a Friday, and we can talk then." Matty shuffled around on the seat nervously as he awaited George's answer, almost nervous that George had hung up and he just hadn't heard the beep. The moment he was about to check that hadn't happened, George's voice rang back through the tinny phone speakers.

"Sure. I'll need to grab stuff from home first, though."

"You can always borrow clothes- I mean, you don't have to." Matty backed up, worried he might have been too forward: having a sleepover after a week and a half might be a bit much, even. "Fuck, sorry, you probably think that's weird. You're probably too tall, anyway- I mean, maybe not, all my trousers are about seven times too long for me."

George chuckled as Matty gushed, shaking his head fondly. "If you're sure that's okay, mate, then yeah, it'd be easier than going past your house and then walking back, wouldn't it?"

Matty's eyes widened in shock and relief at George's reaction, glad he hadn't freaked him out. "I- yeah, that's fine. Yeah."

"Great." Matty could hear the smile in George's voice, and he grinned shyly in response, Henry practically cooing next to him. "I'll see you on the bus then, yeah?"

"Yeah. Yeah, sure. See you later." Matty shook his head at Henry, rolling his eyes as Henry made a heart with his hands.

"Alright, mate. Bye."

Both boys looked at their phones for a moment before George hung up first, unable to contain his smirk at the prospect of staying with Matty. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that was somewhat creepy, but honestly, he'd been waiting for the opportunity to make friends with the boy for years now, and sort of didn't expect it to actually happen.

He began to make his way from where he had been sitting in an empty classroom to his Chemistry class, since it was nearing the end of his lunch period, wondering whether or not he should in fact have told Matty he absolutely needed to go home first. If he had, of course, they could have had weed for the evening.


	4. Removing Confusion

"Your turn."

George paused for a moment, thinking. "When's your birthday?"

Matty and George were sitting at opposite ends of Matty's bed, cross-legged and listening to whatever shit came on shuffle on Matty's Spotify Premium account that he nicked from his mum since she never used it. It was around half eight, and they had just got back upstairs after eating the pasta Matty's mum had made them.

Matty cocked his head at the question, smirking at how unimaginative George was being. " _Really_?"

George closed his eyes, letting his chin fall so it almost touched his chest, and leaned to the side so the top of his head touched the wall in embarrassment. "Yeah, really. It's important, you know? Don't wanna miss it. I don't know."

The curly-haired boy giggled,leaning forward to place a hand around George's upper arm, his long fingers wrapping around the soft flesh and soft, thin sweater that George had taken from Matty's wardrobe the second they entered the room. "It's fine, mate. It's the eighth of April. Yours?"

"Twenty-third of March."George paused, sitting upright once more. "Your turn now, though. Good luck." He winked jokingly, causing Matty to visibly wince.

"Don't take the piss if I end up asking something stupid, alright?"

"Ah, I don't know, seems biased to me – you're allowed to be a bitch about my questions, but I can't be about yours?"

Matty groaned, leaning back so his spine touched the bookshelf at the foot-end of his bed. "Fair play, I guess." He thought for a moment, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear as he did so, not noticing George carefully watching Matty's fingers as they twirled through his hair. "Do you play any instruments?"

Matty looked back up at George as he spoke, uncrossing his legs and bringing them up to his chest, wrapping his arms over his knees.

"Not really – well, I _do_ , but only a bit. I have an acoustic guitar, but I'm pretty shit, and I have drum lessons at school. I'm getting pretty good at that, I s'pose."

A wide smile decorated Matty's lips, teeth showing and all. "Oh my god, that's so cool – we should totally play together some time, I've always wanted to start a band! I play guitar, this could be so cool, man," he chattered excitedly. George listened intently, watching as his mouth stretched wider as he spoke louder and became more enthusiastic.

"Yeah, definitely."

There was silence for an awkward moment between the boys before George tore his gaze away from Matty's stretched lips.

"Matty, mate – can I ask you something?"

Matty made a sound somewhere between a snort and a giggle. "Of course, you prick, that's literally what we've been doing and it's your turn."

"Okay, well – look, you don't have to answer this, and it might come across as kind of rude?I don't mean it to, but... Anyway, I was just wondering, why are you friends with Joe and that lot? They don't seem like the nicest guys around."

Matty's smile sunk into a frown, and his bit his lower lip, leaning his chin on his knees and looking up at George from his lowered position.

"Honestly, Henry's not as bad as you think. He's my best friend, you know? And he's got..." Matty paused, unsure of whether or not to confide in George about Henry's personal life. "He's just struggling with school at the minute, and it's really getting to him – the stress, I mean, with exams coming up and all that."

George nodded sagely: he understood exam pressure, not that he thought it was a good enough excuse to be a dick to Matty. "And what about Jay? Andy? What about fucking _Joe_ , Matty? We both know he was worse than Henry."

Matty folded his legs down and out so the soles of his feet pressed together and his knees pressed against the mattress, ninety degrees from his pelvis. He twiddled his fingers, pulling his lip back between his teeth.

"I... I don't really know about the others. Joe was with Henry when he came to apologise, but he didn't really say anything at all, and he left when Henry started talking about it all. The rest didn't even try, to be honest – I haven't spoken to any of them since."

George sat up onto his knees and crawled closer to Matty, swivelling so that he could lean on the cold wall, and pulled Matty against him. He gently encircled Matty's shoulders with his arms, resting his chin on top of Matty's head, the fluffy hair tickling his skin.

"I'm sorry, love. I shouldn't have pushed it."

Matty shook his head slightly, allowing George to relax slightly. "Nah, it's fine."Nevertheless, Matty snaked his arms around George's waist as he spoke.

"What about the nail varnish then, eh? How come you had it on in the first place?"

Matty tore himself away from the older boy, turning so that he was leaning against the wall with his right arm pressing into George's left arm, and stared at the poster of Michael Jackson on the wall opposite.

"I'm not really sure, to be honest with you." Matty had to think for a moment as his brain struggled to totally comprehend what George was asking and to formulate an answer. "I guess there are just days when I feel more... I don't want to say feminine, but feminine. And, like, it's kind of just like a subtle way of showing it? It's not just that,like, on weekends if I feel like it, I wear kind of girly clothes too."

George raised an eyebrow at this. "Hm?"

Matty flung his gaze to George with wide-eyes, panicking slightly: "I don't mean, like, _skirts_ and shit, just, like, pretty colours- _fuck_ , I didn't mean for it to come out like that. Shit." A blush was spreading slowly across Matty's face, and he could feel his cheeks heating, causing him to snap his stare back to Michael Jackson.

George held in his chuckles and placed a hand on Matty's shoulder. "It's alright, mate, I just wasn't sure what you meant. It's totally fine, you know?"

The short boy looked back at George, probably giving himself whiplash with how fast he was turning his head. "I don't think anyone's ever actually told me that. Like, it's not like I really talk to Mum about this kind of thing, but she's never really spoken about expression."

"Well, I'm telling you now that it's alright to want to dress however you want, yeah? Gender isn't black and white, I know that, and it's fine if you're not at either end of the spectrum."

Matty bit his lip, holding back the smile that was growing steadily without him meaning it to. He leaned his head into George's shoulder, pushing his hair away from his face when it flopped down, tickling his nose. He could feel his eyes beginning to sting even as he smiled, tears swelling through his eyelids.

"Hey, hey, hey – Matty,don't cry, holy fuck-" George placed his hand on the top of Matty's shoulder, where it joined his neck, rubbing along it slowly. "It's all going to be okay, mate, I'll be here for you, okay?"

Matty chuckled in a low tone,shaking his head slowly. "I know it's nothing to worry about, I'm just- scared, I suppose. I don't know what I am, and it's kind of terrifying."

"I get it, you know? When I was figuring out my sexuality it was horrific – you have no idea how anyone's gonna react, or even how  _you're_ going to react,because you don't know what's going on with your mind, but you've just got to live through it." George stopped when he realised that Matty's tears were becoming more violent as he began to sob slightly,his shoulders racking up and down.

"C'mere."

He pulled the small boy onto his lap, rubbing his large hands up and down Matty's spine comfortingly, putting a fair amount of pressure into it, allowing himself to feel the ridges in Matty's back. Matty's hands were clutching to George's waist as he pressed his left cheek into George's chest, his tears creating a damp patch on George's –well, _Matty's_ –sweater.

Matty took a deep breath and sat back slightly. He had ended up on his knees, with a leg either side of George's outstretched, lanky ones. He pulled the sleeve of his grey sweater over his right hand, using it to wipe his face.

"Fuck, I'm so sorry for dropping this shit on you like this. I mean, shit, we've only known each other for, what, two weeks? You probably didn't need this, I'm sorry, you shouldn't have to deal with it, it isn't fair on you."

He pulled himself off of George's lap, stepping off the mattress to lean against his cheap desk.

"Honestly, Matty, it's fine –I don't mind." He folded his arms across his stomach, placing his hands where Matty's had been as if to mimic his touch. "How about we watch a film? Take your mind off things?"

"Uh, yeah – sure, good plan."

Matty stepped across the room, internally scolding himself for putting all this on George: he had no idea if he was stressing about exams or whether he had any issues of his own, and if he was and he did, this would just be extra weight that George didn't need.

But he hadn't stopped Matty, in fact, he had encouraged him sharing his thoughts and feelings, so Matty knew he was most likely simply over-thinking.

He pulled open the bottom drawer of his dresser, looking through the titles that were neatly stacked against each other.

"Gay? Or not?"

George snorted at the question, practically choking on nothing. "I, uh – that's kind of out of the blue, Matty, I mean, I just told you that I questioned my sexuality, I-"

"No, fuck – that's not-"

"I mean, I'm pansexual if you really want to know, but-"

" _I meant the film,_ George, not _you_!" Matty was blushing harder than before, half collapsed from laughing, and his tummy was starting to hurt. "Do you want to watch a gay film?"

George joined in with Matty's somewhat infectious laughter, struggling and failing to eject words from his lips.

"You know what?" Matty forced out between chuckles. "Let's go with  _not_ , yeah? How do you feel about..." He knelt down, running his fingers along the DVD cases as he read them. "Nightmare Before Christmas?"

"Sure," George stuttered out, not really thinking about it as he continued to giggle in aftershocks of their laughter. It was only after Matty had started up his laptop, placed it over both of their laps once he had sat back down next to George, and the film had started playing, that George realised what he had agreed to.

"Jesus fucking _Christ_ , Matty, this is so fucking emo – why do you even own this? Bloody hell."

"Oh, fuck me, fine, but we're watching a gay film now, okay?"

"Fine by me."

And so, Matty and George sat on Matty's bed with their sides pressing against the other's, watching the extraordinarily gay film that is Weekend.

They settled into silence,which was fairly necessary considering how much the actors mumble in the film and that they weren't watching with subtitles on, the silence between them only being broken by Matty when, a fair way through the film, Glen is reading through Russell's accounts of his one night stands.

"I'm not a boy, am I?"

George almost jumped, not having expected Matty to say anything, let alone something like that. He looked over at him, leaving the film playing in the background.

"I don't know, mate. I'm not in your head, it's up to you to work that out."

"But what do you _think_ , George? I don't want you to tell me what I have to be, because fuck knows we all get enough of that in this fucking society, but what do you think I might be?"

George licked his drying lips,blinking slowly. "I mean, I feel like I don't really know enough to make a judgement, but honestly, you might be genderfluid?"

"I – what?"

"I mean, it's basically all in the name. Someone with a changing gender. I don't really know enough about it to explain it, to be honest, but I've seen people talking about it on Tumblr and Instagram and shit."

Matty nodded slowly, looking down at his lap and allowing it all to clock over in his head.

"I mean, we can always look it up tomorrow, Matty. Find a youtube video about it or something."

Matty's face lit up – _bless him –_ at the suggestion. "That'd be great."

"Alright, mate." George extracted his left arm from between them, draping it over Matty's shoulders, prompting the younger boy to lean his head back on George's arm. "Let's finish the film for now, though, yeah?"

"Yeah."

And so, their attention was drawn back to the screen just as the second needlessly long sex scene began, causing both boys to blush, although neither said anything or complained.

By the time the film finished, it was almost midnight, and both Matty and George were getting sleepy since they'd both been up since seven.

"Uh, Matty?"

"Hmm?"

"Where am I gonna sleep, mate? We were meant to get the blow up bed out earlier, remember?"

Matty grimaced at their forgetfulness, turning to face George as the credits continued. "You can just sleep with me, I guess – wait, fuck, I did it again, I didn't mean sex, just sleep. Sorry."

George giggled at Matty's stumbling words, trying to lean his head against Matty's shoulder, but finding himself with his ear pressed to his own shoulder, Matty's shoulders been too low for him, and his arm being rested across them anyway.

"It's fine. But I won't sleep in your bed if you're uncomfortable with it, like, it's okay, right?"

Matty nodded gently. "'Course it is. You want a shirt to sleep in?"

"Yeah, thanks."

Matty dragged himself out of George's loose embrace, shuffling over to his chest of drawers to pull out a couple are too-big T-shirts – one for George and one for himself – that would probably be the right size for George, if he were honest.

"Cheers."

George stood up, standing by Matty's desk so that they were at opposite ends of the room, making changing in front of someone they had only known a few weeks less awkward as they tugged off their sweaters and jeans.

"I'm gonna go and brush my teeth, I'll be back in a minute. Feel free to like, get in without me, just don't take all the duvet, yeah?"

When the door was shut behind Matty, George pulled the fresh shirt over his head before slipping himself under the mattress, silently giving thanks for the fact the mattress on the floor was a double bed.

The grey cover was soft and smelt undeniably of Matty as he snuggled into his half of the duvet and prayed that Matty didn't have a thing about only sleeping on the wall-side of the bed since George had taken it. He didn't mean to close his eyes, but he did, making staying awake until Matty returned a few minutes later that little bit harder, though much kinder on his tired brain.

When he heard Matty slip quietly into the room, clearly thinking George was asleep, he rolled over to face him, opening his eyes. "Hey," he murmured, smiling slightly as Matty tucked himself under the duvet next to him.

"Hey."

And just like that, Matty rolled over to face away from George, closing his eyes. George sighed, turning to face the wall – a habit since, in his own room, the bed was against the opposite wall to the window, so facing anywhere except the wall made everything too light to sleep.

He mimicked Matty's actions,curling up slightly on his side, and shut his eyes, trying not to fidget too much as he tried to sleep, so as not to disturb Matty, not knowing that Matty was in fact still awake, and staying still for the exact same reason.


	5. Confusing Thoughts

Matty slid his chair backwards, the wooden chair leg scraping against the kitchen tiles as he pushed back from the table where he and George were eating breakfast.

"Want anything to drink?"

George hummed, chewing as quickly as possible to swallow before speaking, before giving up and covering his mouth with his hand instead.

"Yeah, uh- just water. Thanks."

Matty opened the fridge, retrieving an open carton of orange juice as George spoke, frowning and turning his head to face George, letting the fridge door close behind him. "You sure? You can have juice if you want."

He turned to take two glasses from a cupboard near the fridge, waiting for George's reply as he poured the chilled juice into one of the glasses.

"Um, that'd be nice, yeah. Thank you." George muttered, blushing slightly, causing Matty to chuckle quietly.

Matty poured the remainder of the juice into the second glass, no more coming out of the carton once the glass was about half full. _Shit_. Thinking for a moment, Matty placed the half-full glass down by his own bowl of shreddies, giving George the full glass.

"Oh, I can have the smaller glass, mate, it's fine."

"Nah," Matty smiled at George, walking back around the table to squash the juice carton, throwing it in the bin. "It was full, I drank some while someone else made up his mind."

Matty poked George as he sauntered around the kitchen to sit down again, George giggling at his comment.

The door between the kitchen and the living room creaked open slowly, Louis shuffling through the door, grinning when he saw Matty and George sitting at the table, eating cereal.

"Hi Matty! Hi George!"

"Morning, Louis," George said, smiling back at the small boy. "I'll be right back, just need the loo."

George stood, depositing his now-empty bowl in the sink as he walked past and out the kitchen. Louis giggled at the sound of him walking up the stairs before turning to Matty and speaking, tilting his head to the side with curiosity.

"Is George your boyfriend, Matty?"

Matty frowned slightly at the question which had seem pretty out of the blue, especially from his little brother, but the frown soon morphed into a small smirk.

"No, Louis, he's not."

Louis shrugged, before holding his cup out to Matty for him to refill it.

~~~  
  
Henry shuffled down the pavement as he made his way home. He had stayed at a friend's house – Mikey's – but Mikey's older brother had told him to leave before their parents got home from their week-long work trip, which he honestly thought was just an excuse so that Gerard didn't have to see him any more. He knew that Mikey's brother wasn't particularly fond of the kind of people Mikey chose to socialise with, and he could see why: their group wasn't the most accepting.

If Henry were being honest, he would admit that he wasn't looking forward to going home: his home life wasn't complete shit, but it could certainly be improved, and he hadn't told his father where he would be last night. Henry was certain that he wouldn't be thrilled with the fact Henry hadn't been revising, and he knew he wouldn't take any lie about him studying with Mikey.

He sighed, opening the latch on the gate into his front garden and closing it behind him as he turned up the path. He pulled his keys out of the side pocket on his back pack, unlocking the door, and calling out to his dad, presuming he was come since the car was parked by the front of the house.

"Hello? I'm home; sorry I didn't tell you where I was going last night, it wasn't planned."

He stepped down the hall, wanting to smooth it over with his father before going up to his room. He found him in the living room, seeing that he had been about to get up to greet him.

"Where the hell were you, kid? You _know_ to tell me where you're going – not that you should be going anywhere but straight here after school, you _know_ you're going to fail your exams if you don't study every night."

He took a deep breath, sighing it out in disappointment. "You're not the brightest, granted, but I'm _sure_ you have the capability to understand that."

Mr Clark was standing in front of the television, his newspaper left on the sofa, with his hands on his hips. He was wearing smart trousers and a white shirt, as he always did, with the top button undone and the bottom of the shirt partially tucked into the waist of the trousers.

"I, uh- I'll revise all day today, I promise." Henry shuffled awkwardly, glancing backwards towards the stairs that were just through the door, honestly just wanting to get out. "I'm sorry."

"Well, that's a start, isn't it?" Mr Clark moved one hand away from his hips, gesturing towards the door. "Off you go then, son."

Henry started to walk away towards the stairs, looking back over his shoulder when his father spoke once more. "You could always bring your books downstairs. I'd like you to revise in the kitchen more often, just so I know you're working hard - as you s _hould_ be."

Henry turned away once more, making his way to the bottom of the steps, and allowed his shoulders to fall slowly into a slump as he bit his lip.

"Sure."

He trudged his way up the stairs, his legs feeling heavier than before, feeling every ounce of his weight pushing down on him as he haltingly climbed the steps. He was perfectly aware that this was not the worst home life he could have, and he was determined that his father treated him well enough: he didn't go hungry, and he never had bruises to cover.

Mr Clark just wanted him to do well in school, which Henry decided was reasonable. Yes, perhaps his methods of ensuring Henry's weren't quite right, but it would get him through his GCSEs.

There was, of course, a part of him that wondered if his father's _attitude_ was the reason he lashed out on people - his father had never been the most accepting of men, openly and loudly taunting anyone he thought looked a bit gay in the streets. Henry knew it wasn't really an excuse for him to behave the same way, but he couldn't help but hope his behaviour wasn't absolutely his own fault.

He pushed open the door to his room, the door handle digging into the joint between his fingers and palm as he did so. He flicked on the lightswitch, it being fairly early morning in Spring and therefore not particularly bright outside yet, despite his curtains being open from yesterday morning.

Light brought the mess of his room to his attention: he had a sudden spurt of motivation to tidy, and actually moved towards the pile of clothes by his bed, situated against the window wall, before realising he should get downstairs as fast as he could.

He made his way across his small room to his desk, picking his way over the various socks and DVD cases on the floor to crouch in front of the desk. Henry pulled out his physics and maths folders and books, balancing them in his arms to carry downstairs.

Teetering out the room, Henry precariously used his foot, standing on one leg, to pull the door shut behind him, only pulling it to so that it didn't slam closed. He carefully stepped down the stairs, peering over the top of his folders to avoid missing any steps.

At the bottom of the stairs, he turned left, entering the kitchen opposite the living room. He gently placed the folders and books on the large kitchen table, seeing his father follow him into the room, leaning on the door frame with his hands in his pockets, smirking.

"There's a good lad."

Henry smiled back at his father, guardedly, before removing the maths folder from the top of the pile, deciding to make a start on physics first. He spread his work out on the table, and didn't move or speak a word for the next several hours.

~~~

George looked down at his phone as he stepped through the door, closing it absent-mindedly behind him as he read the text that just came through from Matty.

_Forgot to say - see you on Monday, have a good weekend :)_

He hastily typed out a reply as he cautiously walked into the living room, careful not to trip over anything.

_yeah man, u too_

He shoved his phone back in the pocket of the jeans he had borrowed from Matty - a gift from Matty's aunt, who assumed Matty had grown more than he had in reality, which was little to no growth at all. Still, they fit well, so George supposed he should thank Matty's aunt if he ever met the woman.

Looking up now that his gaze had been torn from the device, he spotted his mum, sitting on the end of their brightly coloured sofa with her legs tucked up underneath her and a book on her lap, her glasses on her nose. She was watching him amusedly, with a cheeky little smile on her lips.

"Who was that then, eh?"

George blushed, shrugging off his bag next to the telly.

"Matty."

Amanda fake-gasped in an exaggerated fashion, leaning forwards and placing the book face-down on the carpet to pay attention to her son. _(if anyone knows what his mum is actually called hmu, i couldn't find it anywhere)_

"First you stay at his house, now he's texting you right after you leave - seems like things are looking up, hm?"

She chuckled, raising her eyebrows as George's phone went off again: another text from Matty, she presumed. George's blush refused to budge as he shuffled his feet slightly.

"Yeah, I guess - hey, mum, you want tea?"

Amanda rolled her eyes, picking her book up once more. "Peppermint and liquorice, please."

"Alright."

George sauntered into the kitchen through the connecting door, flicking on the partially-full kettle and reaching into the cupboard above the counter it sat on to retrieve the box of peppermint and liquorice tea.

He sighed as he ripped open the little paper packet containing the tea bag, wanting to put off checking his phone so he didn't look too eager, and trying to busy his hands by running them over the mugs to find his mum's favourite.

Grasping her favourite - white, with a drawing of a woman hanging off a lamp post, with writing that stated "I'm in my own world: we're all crazy here" - he dropped the sweet smelling tea bag into it, reaching up once more to retrieve his own mug: slightly less extravagant, with an image of the universe printed onto it.

He opted for a less interesting ginger tea, tapping his fingers on the countertop as he stared at the kettle, waiting for it to boil. His hands itched to see what Matty had said - assuming it was, in fact, Matty who had texted him. Actually, maybe it hadn't been Matty: perhaps someone had something important to say to him, so really, he could be ignoring someone in a life-or-death situation, and not making sure of that would be rude, surely?

Having successfully convinced himself to see what they - hopefully, Matty - had to say, George pressed the button on the side of his phone, lighting up the screen to see that he did in fact have two texts. _Weird. I don't usually miss notifications._ George supposed that one of the texts - either Amber or Matty - had come while he was replying to Matty before.

 _Mattyyy [09:12]_ _What was that word you said about gender? That you thought I might be? We forgot to look earlier, and I have a brain like a sieve._

 _Bain of my life [09:07]_ _HWLP MAIRKA IS BEUNG SI CYTE AHES USING THEAE PICK IP LINRS_

George smirked at Amber's "distress", typing out a quick response something along the lines of 'I'm kind of uninterested, but feel free to tell me and I'll pretend to be reading it', because he was such a caring friend, before turning his attention back to Matty.

_i said maybe genderfluid, im not sure tho, obvs i might be wrong but its something to look into_

The kettle finally boiled, the little switch flicking back up with a click. George turned the phone screen off, placing it face down on the counter in a place that there was little risk of him accidentally pouring boiling water on. Emptying the small kettle into the mugs, George slid the phone off the counter once more, walking backwards to lean against the kitchen table.

He hit the phone gently against his leg rhythmically as he waited for Matty to reply.

By the time the tea had brewed a few minutes later, Matty still hadn't texted back: George wasn't particularly _worried_ \- at least, he told himself he wasn't - but he didn't want to leave the conversation like that.

He slid open the cutlery drawer beneath the sink, retrieving a teaspoon and closing it was a small bang, fishing the teabags out of the mugs and putting them in the bin before returning to the living room with a mug in each hand and his phone tucked between the ring and little finger off his left hand.

"Here we go, Mum."

Amanda looked up from her book once more, in the middle of turning a page. She tucked a finger between the pages, reaching forwards to take the mug that George was offering.

"Thanks, love." She took a brief sip, wincing at the heat, and put it down next to her. "Think I'll leave that to cool for a minute." After thinking for a second with her head tilted, watching George standing awkwardly in the middle of the living room. "Come sit with me."

George smiled at her, jolting into motion as she patted the sofa next to her. Lowering himself onto the soft, fabric sofa, George brought his legs up to sit cross-legged, facing Amanda.

"Come on then, hun. What's going on with Matty? Hm?"

George smiled and exhaled gently through his teeth, looking down at his lap and running a hand backwards through his hair.

"Well, technically nothing, but - I mean, you know how long I've liked him, so it's a big change, I guess."

Amanda grinned, leaning forward to hug her son one-armed, with the hand that wasn't holding her book. "Better than nothing, though, right?"

"Yeah, absolutely." George nodded vigorously as he replied: yeah, their friendship wasn't a lot, but it was a lot more than before, and being around Matty even this much meant the world to George.

"I am- _worried_ about him, though." George spoke haltingly, not certain how much to tell his mum about Matty's personal life.

"And why's that?"

Taking a deep breath, George figured that his mum was unlikely to ever meet Matty's mum, let alone talk to her about this sort of thing. She was usually good at keeping his own secrets, after all.

"He's got some stuff going on with his friends at the minute. He's figuring out his gender at the minute, and they weren't really happy with it. He _says_ they've pretty much figured it out with each other - or, at least, he's figured it out with _Henry_ , who practically runs their little group."

Amanda smiled sympathetically. "You know me, George. I don't really get any of this gender stuff, but if his friends aren't okay with it, I'm not sure they're friends at all."

Nodding, George continued. "I know that, but I don't think Matty's taking that as an option, you know? He's been friends with them forever, it'd break his heart to leave them now."

"Wouldn't it hurt him more if they keep being like this?"

George frowned, looking down at his lap once more, nodding slightly.

"And pretty soon, you'll all be on study leave, and you'll hardly be at school to see anyone - he'll only have to see the people he wants to, so he can avoid them easily. And soon after that, you'll all be going to different sixth forms and colleges and all that."

"I s'pose."

He linked and unlinked his fingers, intertwining them awkwardly. Realising his discomfort, his mum nudged him with her shoulder. "Hey, let's not talk about this if you don't want to, yeah? I tell you what, grab yourself a book, and let's just sit for a bit."

Agreeing, George stood, grabbing his bag from next to the telly before traversing up the stairs. Stepping into his room, he placed the bag by his bed and shuffling over to his bookshelf. Kneeling next to it, he closed his eyes, the events of the last few weeks taking an unexpectedly large toll on him all of a sudden.

He could feel his eyes begin to burn from behind his lids, and his throat tightened as his body threatened to cry. Honestly, George had no idea why he was so upset: Matty would be fine, _of course_ he would, because he was _Matty_. Still, he couldn't help but worry, and almost wanted to take the mystery of Matty's gender upon himself to work out.

George just didn't want Matty to have to be sad, or worried, or angry with himself about upsetting his (shit, in George's opinion) friends.

In fact, George wanted nothing but happiness for Matty: happiness, and contentment - and love.

_Cheers. Sorry I took a while, I wanted to read about it a little first. I'm not sure, to be honest - I don't think it changes totally, you know? Currently looking around at demigenders, thinking that might be closer._

George had never reached for his phone as fast as he did when it vibrated in his pocket just then, reading the slightly longer text from Matty carefully before figuring out how best to answer. Keeping his phone in his left hand, he rubbed his eyes with his left first finger and thumb before tapping out his reply.

_alright matty. keep me updated, yeah?_

_Of course, mate, if you want._

Nodding slightly, satisfied with Matty's answer, George ran his finger along the spines of his books, deciding what to read - most of his books were pretty sappy, making it difficult to find something that wouldn't remind him of Matty, but eventually settling on just rereading Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban.

He bounced his way downstairs, book in one hand and phone in the other, Amanda thrilled to see his change in mood; and so they sat together on the patchwork sofa, drinking their tea and reading their books as if nothing were wrong, and George hadn't just been freaking out about his friend's other friendships.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i made a twitter love me it's @/mikeymomoo


	6. Thoughts of Relationships

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im gonna say now that when i say older or younger in this, im going only off the month and day, not year, because theyre all the same school year in this. so eg harry styles was born feb 1st '94, nick grimshaw was born august 14th '84, but they're in the same year at school so in this, harry is older, because feb is before aug in a school year.

What is the correct etiquette when you're telling someone that you fancy them a fair bit, and you have done for over a year now?

Harry had no idea.

Honestly, what the fuck are you supposed to say? "Yeah, mate, I've had a big gay crush on you since we started talking properly"? "I want your cock in my arse"?

There was no way of saying it that Harry could think of which he was actually comfortable with.

Utterly confused, Harry pushed himself up off his position on his bed where he had been sitting with his legs over the edge of the mattress on the long side of the bed. The length of his bed was the same as the width of the room, so he had it pressed up against the whole of one of the walls, leaving him plenty of space in the centre of the room, partially taken up by a sofa against a long wall, opposite his window.

He paced the length of his room a few times, before falling backwards onto the sofa and staring out the window at the houses opposite his own. His eyes flickered to his phone, face down on the left arm of the sofa, and, without really thinking about it, he picked it up, unlocking it and opening his text conversation with Nick.

_Hey, wanna come over? I fancy a walk but kinda lonely haha_

Pressing send, Harry held his phone in his hand, flipping it over several times as he waited for a reply. Thankfully, Nick was renowned for replying quickly, and the answer came within a minute.

_Yeah, ofc. I'll be over in like, ten minutes_

Smiling to himself, Harry stood, pushing his phone into his back pocket. He walked over to his bed and knelt down, pulling open of the drawers under his bed. Grabbing a knitted jumper, he rolled himself up off the floor once more, before tugging the sweater over his head.

Harry practically skipped down the stairs - he was oddly excited about the prospect of telling Nick how he felt, though he was sure that the nerves would kick in the second Nick arrived.

After a few minutes of scrolling through Twitter while sitting in the living room, the doorbell rang; Harry jumped at the noise, having been engrossed in the dat boi video. He quickly locked his phone, and sprang up to rush to the door.

On opening the front door, he was greeted by a grinning Nick, with his hands deep in the front pocket of his grey hoodie.

"Alright, mate?" Nick's smile didn't falter as he spoke, his teeth on show the whole time.

"Alright. Ready to go?"

"Absolutely."

Nick stepped aside, beckoning for Harry to leave the house in what was almost a bow, eliciting a chuckle to escape from Harry's lips.

Harry lead Nick to the small woods a little way from his house, the pair chatting comfortably as they walked: they were close together, as they always were, with little more than a foot of space between them at any time.

Harry's heart was beginning to flutter; he rapped his fingers against the side of his legs as they walked, the nervous energy that was gradually building trying to find an outlet to escape.

They walked mostly in silence, which both were comfortable with: they had known each other long enough, and were close enough, to know that the silence wasn't because either couldn't think of anything to say, and in a way, this silence felt almost sacred. Neither were particularly prone to quietness, but when they both settled like this, it always felt very personal them both.

Once in awhile, as they walked, their hands would brush together, and when this happened, Harry would take a deep, sharp breath of air as Nick didn't move away, before jolting his own arm away with the pretense of scratching the opposite shoulder, or moving his hair out his face.

It took about ten minutes for them to reach the forest. They didn't walk far inside, only far enough to reach the tree that they always sat by: large, and with a dent in one side that fit them both in if they sat close enough together.

Sitting down, with their sides touching - shoulders, arms, hips, outstretched legs - Harry and Nick began to speak once more, their topics consistently irrelevant to what Harry had wanted to say.

Harry's fingers were still tapping away at his thigh, and his feet couldn't seem to keep still. It was only a matter of time until Nick noticed, and when he did, he wouldn't let it go.

"I- are you nervous, mate?" Harry shook his head, looking down at his lap and willing his fingers and feet to stay still. "You don't need to be, man, it's just me. You know that, yeah?"

Smiling awkwardly, Harry looked up at Nick, his gaze not quite reaching the other boy's eyes. "Course I do."

This lead to another extended silence, although this time, both boys were itching to break it. Nick frowned, unsure as to why Harry was so ostensibly uncomfortable today: it wasn't like Harry at all, and it was almost scary to him - unnerving, at least.

It was Harry who eventually broke the silence, though with somewhat stunted words as he trailed off towards the end.

"Nick, I - I didn't plan to be so weird today, I just needed to tell you something. I literally have no idea how to say this to you - we've known each other so long and I don't want to ruin that, alright?"

Honestly, by this point, Nick had figured out exactly what Harry was trying to say, but still, he nodded and gestured with his hand for Harry to continue.

"Look, I don't want this to sound weird, but-" Harry sighed, not sure whether to go through with it or just to make something else up. He closed his eyes and turned away slightly to continue. "I've been into you for at least a year now, Nick, and I just..." Opening his eyes, he locked his fingers together, twiddling his thumbs. "I just needed to tell you."

They were silent once more, for little more than a few seconds, before Nick swivelled his upper half to face Harry, and pulled him in for a hug, resting his chin on the shorter boy's shoulder. His throat felt tight and his chest ached, and he wasn't sure why.

Being physically close to Harry had always made Nick feel like that: he supposed it was, in fact, out of reciprocated affection for the boy, because, yes, Nick would never deny that he had feelings for him, but he was sort of unwilling to put that into words just yet.

"It's alright, Harry, you know that." Harry wrapped his arms around Nick's waist as he spoke, leaning the side of his head into Nick's neck. "We should probably get going soon, though. It's a bit chilly."

Nick chuckled, though Harry just gripped tighter, not wanting to let go: he was still nervous that this would change their friendship, and he didn't want to leave this moment if it did.

Eventually, though, Nick pulled away from him, tearing himself off of the older boy to stand up. He held his hand out to Harry, who took it, using the grip to pull himself up, being careful not to stumble into him.

The walk back to Harry's house was just as quiet as the walk to the woods: in fact, it was much the same, too, in that they were just as close as before, only this time, when Harry jerked his hand away from Nick's, Nick would frown and glance down at their disconnected limbs.

Nick supposed that the biggest difference between their journeys to and from Harry's house was that this one was much more painful than the first. He was caught up in his thoughts, trying to work out what to say to Harry, and whether or not he actually should.

He was aware that he had had feelings for the boy for a long time now, too, and that it would be unfair not to tell him now that Harry had said something. Thing was, Nick was worried that it would sound insincere now: had he left it too long already since Harry had told him?

A part of Nick was scared that if he said anything now, Harry would think he was taking the piss - which, of course, he wouldn't be, but Harry would be stubborn and refuse to listen when he told him that.

The other part of him was sure that it would be better to say it now than leave it until tomorrow, and then next week, and then whenever it seemed right, because once it gets to that point, it'll never seem right, and you'll never say a word on the subject.

As they approached Harry's front door, Nick stopped walking. Harry spun around as if he were being pulled by Nick to face him, and frowned as he saw Nick fidgeting slightly with his feet.

Nick took a long breath and sighed it out before speaking.

"Me too. Just so you know."

Harry cocked his head to the side, opening and closing his mouth in confusion. "I- what?"

Nick closed his eyes, shaking his head quickly, before ducking forward to kiss Harry's cheek, turning around, and walking away. Once he was a few paces away, he turned to face Harry once more, still walking backwards. Harry was looking at the floor, utterly confounded, his head jolting up when Nick spoke.

"Text me, yeah?"

~~~  
  


George and Amber were sitting on a wooden bench that faced the small school sports field on Monday morning. They'd just finished lunch, and had come outside for the quiet, rather than face the racket of the common room, and were pretty much talking wank, half distracted by their phones.

Amber was engrossed in a game of colour switch when Marika spotted them and snuck up from behind, winking at George when he spotted her, and placing a finger to her lips. When she was just behind Amber, she grabbed her shoulders, bursting into giggles as Amber physically jumped up in her seat, gasping audibly.

Amber whipped her head around to see her girlfriend, and slapped her playfully on the arm. "You absolute _bitch_ , Marika!"

Marika just grinned at her, keeping a hand on Amber's shoulder as she walked around the bench to perch on Amber's knee, kissing her cheek.

Smiling awkwardly and shaking his head, George stood, muttering something about needing the toilet which neither of the girls heard or paid attention to. He started to walk away, with half a mind to find Matty and work out what was going on: he hadn't texted him since Saturday morning, and George was starting to worry.

He found Matty with his legs crossed on a padded chair in a corner of the common room, hunched over his phone with a coat draped over his shoulders. Sitting down next to the younger boy, George nudged him with his elbow, eliciting a small gasp from him as he looked up to see his friend.

"Oh - hey, mate."

"Hi." The word came out almost as a question as George considered whether Matty was really as calm as he seemed. "You alright?"

Matty smiled, pulling the coat closer to him. "Yeah, I'm good, you?"

"Just fine." George frowned, altogether confused. "You didn't text me?"

"Yeah," he stretched out the vowel sound. "Sorry about that, I was doing research, and then I just forgot to text you, to be honest." Matty shrugged.

"Oh. Well, what did you find?"

Matty grinned, replying with a wide smile. "I'm not, like, one hundred per cent on this, but I found this one thing - demiboy - and I think that might be me. I mean, I feel happy with it as a label, and I think that must show something, right?"

"Yeah." George smiled gratefully at his friend's happiness, glad that he had found something he felt fit. "Yeah, it must. That's so good, mate." He reached across to hug Matty, his hands working their way underneath the coat, accidentally slipping it off onto the chair behind him. "Shit, sorry."  
  


He pulled away, tugging the thick coat back up over Matty's shoulders. "Thanks."

"So, have you told anyone about it? Your other friends?"

Matty pushed his arms into the coat, pulling the sleeves down over this hands. "No. I have no idea what they'll say, you know? It's kind of intimidating."

"What about just telling Henry? He seems okay with it now, yeah?"

Matty nodded, unable to deny that Henry had gone from his least accepting friend to probably his most open-minded - except, of course, for George.

"Yeah, I guess. Not yet, though. I'll do it in a few weeks, just in case I change my mind, you know? Don't wanna look like a wanker."

George chuckled quietly, flicking his eyes up to meet Matty's. "What about pronouns?"

Matty suck his bottom lip between his teeth. "I'm not really sure just yet. I think I'm still okay with he pronouns, if that's okay?"

"Course it is." George stretched an arm out to rub Matty's shoulder, their gazes still colliding. "Whatever you're chill with, mate."

"Thank you." Matty was pretty sure that was the most sincere thanks he had ever given: he didn't think he could possibly be more grateful for George coming into his life when he had.

"No worries," George spoke softly, finally looking away from Matty's eyes and down at his lap, where he clasped his hands.

They were silent for a few moments, before Matty abruptly rested his head on George's shoulder, causing any trace of air in George's lungs to be expelled at the contact. Matty's curls gently itched George's neck, but he was unwilling to brush it out the way. George wrapped an arm around Matty's shoulders, pulling Matty's chest against his ribs, and leaned his head against Matty's.

Matty tucked a strand of hair behind his right ear, turning his head slightly so that his left ear wasn't pressed painfully against George's shoulder. He turned so that his torso faced the corner of the room, shuffling backwards to pressed his back against George, freeing both his arms, the movement causing George's arm to shift so that it now draped down Matty's chest.

They stayed in this position for a while, very few words being exchanged, simply breathing and enjoying the comfort of contact, until it occurred to George that the common room was quickly emptying.

"Fuck - Matty, what's the time? Can't reach my phone."

"It's, uh - shit, we need to go." Matty sat upright hurriedly, grabbing his bag from where is was situated next to his chair. "What have you got next?"

"Um - I think it's a free period for me, actually."

"Oh, man. I have French. See you later then, George."

"Yeah."

George sighed deeply as he watched Matty leave the room. He had enjoyed being there with him wholeheartedly, taking comfort in the fact that Matty had initiated such a position, and that he had stayed there with George for most of their lunch break.

Shuffling into the corner that Matty had originally been pressed into when George entered the common room, he leaned his head back, allowing it to fall onto the wall. His right arm and side smelt of Matty: his thankfully light amount of body spray, the slight smell of body odour that for some reason still smelt nice to George - it was just _his_ smell, he supposed.

At this point, it occurred to George how glad he was that everyone had left the room - it wasn't particularly normal or socially acceptable to sniff your sleeve for extended periods of time. Despite being alone, George decided it was entirely too creepy to be doing this, and dropped his arm to his side, suddenly finding that he had no idea what he was doing with himself.

He figured he should probably be revising, but honestly, he didn't have the energy or will to look over his notes for the next hour or so. Still, he knew he needed to do so if he wanted to do well - particularly in his sciences - and so, he bent over to pull out his Physics folder, mindlessly flicking through pages of notes from the last three years.

George's mind was entirely elsewhere as he skimmed through, his thoughts focusing on Matty and how he felt about him, because, honestly, George had no idea what Matty thought of him. George wasn't certain how Matty acted around other people, but he had always been somewhat touchy-feely with him, so George had no real reason to believe Matty had feelings for him.

He supposed there was no harm in hoping, though.


	7. Relationships and Gays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this will forever be known as The Gay ChapterTM

It had been three weeks since Harry had confessed his feelings to Nick, and he hadn't texted him yet. Nick was beginning to worry that Harry hadn't realised what he'd meant by "me too" - he supposed it had been a little cryptic, but he had been certain at the time that Harry would spend enough time over-analysing the situation to figure it out.

Although, if the silence on Harry's end was anything to go by, he hadn't worked it out; that or he simply didn't believe Nick.

Sighing, Nick fell onto his back from where he had been sitting cross-legged on his large bed. He placed his hands on his stomach, feeling them rise and fall as he breathed deeply.

Nick flopped his left arm to his side, and felt around for his phone. Picking it up and grasping it in both hands, holding it up above himself, he unlocked his phone, finding Harry's contact. As he typed out a message, the phone slipped out of his grip, falling on his throat.

"Fuck!" He gasped out in shock, not expecting it. "Jesus Christ," Nick muttered, picking it up to see that the contact with his skin had caused the phone to send Harry a half completed text with a few words of utter gibberish at the end.

Hey, hope you're okay, just wanted to drink flannel spies

Chuckling under his breath, Nick tapped out a second message, hoping Harry would receive the second before replying to the first.

Sorry about that i dropped my phone. Just wanted to see how you're doing since i havent seen you for a while now we're on study leave.

Locking his phone, Nick lifted his hips and slid it into his back pocket before rolling off his bed to watch a film on the sofa downstairs, since it was a Thursday, so his parents were at work.

Study leave - what a fucking joke.

Nick was fifteen minutes into Scott Pilgrim when his doorbell rang. He was half tempted to leave it since he wasn't expecting anyone - probably just Christians wanted to talk about the Bible - but after a moment, Nick dragged himself off the plush sofa to look through the peephole.

Harry?

Nick swung the door open, smirking bemusedly at the sight of the boy on his doorstep.

"Hey, mate. Wasn't expecting you, was I?"

"Nah," Harry replied, shuffling awkwardly. "Figured I'd come over since it's been, what, two weeks since I saw you? Three? Fuck knows, I lost track of time when study leave started."

Harry smiled sheepishly, stepping forwards into the house when Nick slide to the side, allowing him access.

"I'm fine, by the way. Doing alright." Nick frowned, cocking his head to the side.

"What?"

"The text. You asked how I was doing." Nick nodded in understanding, traipsing over to the kitchen to flick on the already half-full kettle. When he got back into the living room with two mugs - one green tea for Harry, one black coffee for himself - Harry was sitting with his legs crossed on the sofa, practically curled up against the arm of the seat.

"Cheers." Harry made grabby hands at the mug of green tea, Nick slipping it between his palms in response.

"Will you be my boyfriend?"

Harry swallowed an accidentally large gulp of the boiling liquid, trying to avoid choking at Nick's outburst.

"I- what?"

"You heard." Nick paused, taking a small sip of his coffee. "I would have asked earlier, but I needed to think for a few days after you told me, and, well - we haven't been at school together, so I haven't had the chance."

"Oh. Yeah, that makes sense."

They sat together, a foot or so of space between them that was slowly decreasing as they got further into the film. Twenty minutes later, Nick piped up again.

"You didn't answer me, though."

Harry turned to look at him, smirking. "I suppose I didn't. Thought you'd know what I'd say, though. 'Course I will, you fucker." His smirk broke out into a full-on, toothy grin as Nick beamed at him.

"Thank god for that."

For the rest of the film, the couple leaned their heads on each other's shoulders, just as they would have normally, because honestly, they'd practically been together for so long now that it was utterly ridiculous that they hadn't made it more formal months ago.

And, when the credits began, Harry tilted his head up from its position underneath Nick's, causing Nick to pull away slightly to look at him, only to move halfway back towards Harry's face and, more importantly, lips. Harry smiled, noticing the action and closing the gap between them, allowing their lips to meet sweetly after so long - years - of wanting this moment.

Nick pulled away after a few seconds, brushing a strand of Harry's hair out of his eyes to kiss his forehead.

They resumed their previous position with Nick's head resting on Harry's head resting on Nick's shoulder, watching as some sort of nature documentary came on once the Scott Pilgrim credits were over.

~~~

 

"Alright Matty, what's up?" George answered his phone the second he saw Matty's name flash up on the screen.

"Nothing, I was just, uh-" Matty had realised he could hear the smile in George's voice as he spoke, finding the idea that it might have been him calling that caused the smile to be quite distracting. "Just wondering if you want to come to this tea place with me? Saw it the other day, I popped in to look what they had - seems like a pretty cool place."

George giggled from the other end, hearing Matty chuckle along with him.

"What is it? What was funny about that, oh my god."

"Just a bit gay mate - like us, I s'pose. Yeah, 'course I'll come."

"Ha - glad you said yes, I'd already left the house when I called. I'll be at yours in a bit."

George snorted quietly, shaking his head at Matty's confidence. "You absolute twat, Matty. See you soon."

Literally a few seconds after George hung up, the doorbell rang. You have to be bloody kidding me; if that's Matty he must have left it to the last minute to call. Cocky bastard.

When George answered the door, he was chuckling gently at the thought of Matty having to walk all the way back home had George declined his offer. As it was, he was greeted by a very happy-looking Matty, who grabbed his hand the second George opened the door, dragging him out onto the sunny road.

"We've got to catch the bus to town, it'll be there in a few minutes."

"Shit, could you not have given me any warning?" George rolled his eyes at Matty's ill preparation, allowing the boy to drag him towards the bus stop just down his road.

The pair bluffed being under sixteen to get the child's price tickets since bus tickets were so fucking overpriced now they had turned sixteen - seriously, how is something that expensive going to get people helping the environment? Absolute wank. They made their way half way down the bus, compromising since Matty got travel sickness occasionally. Matty sat with his arm draped over George's shoulders, feeling altogether very no homo as he did so, though George seemed to lean into the gesture.

Matty pushed George off his seat as they neared their stop, since Matty had taken the window seat to help with the travel sickness. George stumbled down the aisle, muttering "cheers" to the bus driver as the doors slid open, Matty doing the same.

They hopped off the bus, George allowing Matty to step in front of him and lead the way once more. He took them along the fairly busy street, filled with a fair few people their age taking advantage of 'study leave', before turning off into a small alley that George hadn't previously noticed even existed.

"Matty, I hate to say this, but this seems sketchy as hell."

He was right, of course - considering it was sunny out, this alley was exceptionally dark, though the little shops all seemed nice enough. A few doors down was the tea shop Matty had spoken about, and it looked cozy enough from the outside.

There wasn't a display, but there were fairy lights around the inside of the window, and more were visible all around the café. It seemed quite dimly lit - it was ostensibly meant for couples to go on dates together, but George didn't really feel like complaining about that.

The café had an old-fashioned bell that tinkled as they opened the door, causing Matty to grin at the sound. The decoration was fairly minimal, but homely, with wooden floorboards and small, circular rugs under the furniture. The various tables and sofas were spread apart from each other, presumably to give a little privacy to any customers, despite the small size of the room.

Matty and George spotted a two-seated, soft-looking sofa, dashing over to it despite there being little competition for it: the café was practically empty, save one girl sitting alone at a table, revising, and an older couple eating slices of cake with forks.

In front of the table was a small, circular coffee table with a menu lying on it, stating the various teas, coffees, and cakes available. When the middle-aged waitress came along to take their order, greeting them in a friendly voice, she seemed almost offended at George's order of plain, black coffee: Matty felt the need to redeem them in her eyes, opting for a more extravagant (and fairly camp) rosebud tea with lemon.

The waitress - Sam, as her handwritten badge stated - smiled warmly at Matty as he ordered, presumably grateful that he had some taste, in her eyes, at least: George was wide-eyed and frowning in confusion at Matty's pretentious order.

"What the fuck is rosebud tea?" He muttered to Matty as soon as Sam turned her back.

"Dunno, but it sounds cute."

George shook his head, exhaling through his nose, smiling. "Fuck it, I'll have something interesting. Fine."

He stood up, jogging across the café to get Sam's attention. "My friend pointed out I was being boring - can I change my order?"

Sam grinned, looking over at Matty. "Of course you can, love. What would you prefer?"

"Uh-" George glanced up at the chalkboard stating their current specials, rosebud tea being on the list, he noticed. "Peppermint and liquorice, please."

She smiled gently at him, walking behind the counter to boil their see-through kettle after pouring exactly the right amount of water in, using the mugs to measure. "Coming right up."

"Cheers." He turned around to skip back over to Matty, jumping back onto the sofa. His aim was a bit out, and he ended up with a thigh over Matty's knee, which Matty clung onto before George could move away.

George chuckled bemusedly, shuffling closer to Matty as he asked what he ordered.

"Peppermint and liquorice."

Matty oohed, nodding in approval.

"Hey, so I started a painting the other day for the first time in ages - the art GCSE kind of took the fun out of painting for a while, but I just felt like it again, you know?"

George hummed, squishing up to Matty further so that their arms were touching, prompting Matty to lift his right arm over George's shoulders once more, resting it on the back of the sofa. He let his left hand remain on George's left leg, keeping it in place and enjoying the feeling of its warmth in the heavily air conditioned café.

"What are you painting, then?"

"It's of, like, a young Batman crying with his mask in his hand, and then Heath Ledger's Joker with a hand on his shoulder. Oh, and a, like, galaxy background?"

George nodded along, intrigued. "Can I see it? When it's done, I guess."

"'Course you can, mate, s'long as it turns out alright."

They sat in silence for a few moments, taking in the interior of the shop until Sam came back with two dark red mugs on a small tray. She placed two coasters down on their coffee table, putting their respective drinks down on the coaster closest to each of them.

"Thanks."

"Cheers."

Sam smiled, raising her eyebrows at their position, but saying nothing about it as she turned to put the tray away.

Matty lifted his mug to his lips, taking a slurp before wincing, putting the mug straight back down. He swallowed quickly his mouth watering.

"Fuck, that was hot."

George, whose eyes were wide with worry at Matty's actions, relaxed against the boy, shaking his head at Matty's behaviour. "Good, though?"

"Yeah. You should try it when it cools down a bit."

After a few minutes of idle chatter about how little they had been revising for their GCSEs, and how they should really get going with all that bollocks, Matty tested his tea again for heat - it was much better, and he slurped a little more before passing it to George.

"Here. Try."

George took a deep breath in as if trying new tea was something to be proud of, sipping a little of the hot liquid.

"I mean," George said after swallowing the drink. "It could be worse, I guess. Not really my... Cup of tea." He giggled, Matty slapping his shoulder gently and chuckling lightly.

"Very clever, ate. Give it back, though - it is my cup of tea."

The pair slowly drained their mugs, exchanging few, sparse words of conversation as they did so until Matty formed a proper sentence.

"Delicious..." He murmed, almost questioningly as he drank the last of his tea. "Is this a date?"

George shrugged, tipping the last dregs into his mouth, wincing as he realised there were a few tea leaves at the bottom of the mug. "I dunno, mate - you asked me here, pretty sure you should know what your intentions were."

"I s'pose you're right."

George set his mug back down on the clay coaster. "What's delicious? Me or the tea?"

"Both, I reckon."

They sat in silence for a moment, each conveying their thanks to Sam when she came to collect the mugs and coasters, asking if they wanted anything else. They declined, and Matty fished his wallet out of his pocket, giving Sam a ten pound note - while the tea shop was nice, it was pretty overpriced, their drinks being £3.50 each.

"Keep the change as a tip." Sam smiled gratefully, before hurrying back to the counter.

"You didn't have to pay for me, you know?"

"Well, it might be a date, and it's better to be safe than sorry, so just in case it is, I figured I'd better pay for you."

"You're an idiot."

"I know."

George stood, shaking his leg a little as blood rushed back through it from where his circulation had been cut off slightly by his position with Matty. "I'm gonna go to the loo. Be back in a minute."

Matty watched as George walked across the room to the toilet door - a single, unisex cubicle. He hadn't realised how tight George's jeans were until that moment.

He pulled his legs up onto the sofa, slipping out of his shoes in case they were dirty, and circled his arms around his shins. Matty rested his head on his knees, thinking about whether he did, in fact, want this to be a date.

Matty supposed there was no denying that he had some sort of feelings for the older boy: he hadn't felt this way in a few years, but the emotions were unforgettably recognisable. He was, as you always are, unsure whether or not George felt the same, however. George was fairly receptive of his affectionate gestures - reciprocative, even, but still: Matty had found you could never be sure of these things.

And so, he was caught by surprise when George had silently approached him while he was thinking: the younger boy only noticed him when he was crouching in front of him to get on his level, and carefully, gently, pressing his lips to Matty's as if he were a fragile ornament, liable to shatter if he pushed too hard.

George pulled away, standing back up and offering his hand to Matty, helping him up; Matty stood with his help, George noticing the gentle blush that was creeping across his cheeks.

"What was that for?"

"Wouldn't be a proper date otherwise, would it?" George shrugged, linking his arm with Matty's as they slowly shuffled towards the door.

George opened the door to Matty, seeing that the younger boy was smiling just as brightly as he was. He didn't expect Matty to do as he did, though, moving in to kiss George again as they stood in the doorway.

"Good point." Matty spoke a moment after they separated, both of them with grins forming once more on their lips.

They walked out of the shop, moving from linked arms to held hands as they travelled to the bus stop. Once on the bus, Matty offered for George to come over to his for revision.

"I mean, the French exam is literally next week, it's probably for the best, and you know me, George, I won't revise if no one's making me."

George chuckled, rolling his eyes - that much was true. "Yeah, alright."

Surprisingly enough, their study date ended up being extremely productive - meaning that Matty finally learned the difference between future and imperfect endings, which is honestly quite the feat.

"I've fucking got it, George! Took me long enough."

George smiled proudly, sliding his chair back from its position under the kitchen table, opposite Matty. He paraded around the table with a bounce in his step, and leaned in to kiss Matty's cheek once he reached him. "Well done, Matty."

With a small smile, Matty sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, biting it for a moment before releasing it, turning his head to face George. He dropped his Lamy which he had because he's a cool kid, and reached around the back of George's neck to pull him forwards once more, kissing him again.

It was, as previously, a short kiss - nowhere near a proper snog, but neither of the pair were entirely sure what they were doing, or what they wanted from all of this.

"Hey, if we kissed a bit longer, it would be a French kiss - oh my god, embrasse-moi - now it's two kinds of French kiss!"

George sniggered, brushing his chapped lips against Matty's soft ones again. Matty's hand travelled from the nape of his neck to his hair, running his fingers through it as his tongue brushed George's lip.

George pulled back, chuckling. "Woah there, tiger." He paused, hopping up to sit on the table. "Hey, if we're kissing again, does that mean this is a date, too?"

"I dunno, but if it is, then you've had two dates with me in one night, you lucky sod - wish I could have two dates with me." Matty smirked. "Tell you what, though, George. If we ever have another date, it should absolutely end like this."


	8. Gay Actions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you see any mistakes with pronouns when matty's change, pleaseeee tell me. i don't think there are any, but it's possible.

Henry was sitting at the end of his single bed, his legs crossed; his eyes open but unfocused as he paid attention to his thoughts more than his surroundings.

He knew, of course, that he was a bit of a shithead sometimes, and that he had a lot to change about himself, but he couldn't see why Joe was _still_ being a dick about Matty. Joe and Matty had been friends since the start of secondary school - nearly five years, now, and Henry couldn't grasp why some bloody nail varnish would change that.

Again: he wouldn't claim to be perfect - his reaction had been far from the right one when he saw the black paint, but he liked to think he'd clawed his way back a bit. But _Joe_ \- Joe hadn't even _tried_ to make up with Matty. He was too engrossed in his narrow-mindedness that he couldn't see how much they had both hurt Matty: as if he were wearing self-administered blinkers that he refused to remove.

Henry supposed he should try to talk some sense into Joe at some point. It had been months since Joe saw Matty's fingernails, and Joe hadn't said a word to Matty since. In fact, after Henry apologised with Joe there, remaining silent, Henry had been avoiding his best friend, too.

And of course he _missed_ Joe: they had known each other since they were tiny, but Henry wanted to improve himself, and he was _terrified_ that if he were around Joe more often, his actions would influence him like Henry's father had been trying to. Joe meant more to Henry that his father did, and Henry was sure that would make him more influential to Henry's actions.

Henry took a deep breath, right through to his belly, closing his eyes as he released as much air as he could from his lungs.

He gasped, jumping a little, when his phone began to vibrate in his lap. Looking at the bright screen, he read the contact name - _Matty_. Matty was calling him after they hadn't spoken in at least two weeks, and he was absolutely terrified of what he was going to say.

Henry figured all he could do was _pray_ that Matty wasn't angry with him as he slid across to answer the call.

"Alright, mate?"

"Yeah, alright. Hope I'm not interrupting anything, just needed to talk to you, Henry." Matty's voice was crackly through the tinny phone speaker pressed to Henry's ear, and he wasn't sure, but it sounded almost as if Matty was crying.

"No worries, man. What's up?"

"Look, Henry - I - well, it's quite important. Shouldn't take too long, I just - I'm a bit nervous, sorry. Er-" Matty paused looking up from his right hand, clasped with George's left hand as they sat opposite each other at the kitchen table. Matty's right hand trembled as it pressed his phone to his ear. "You know the nail varnish?"

Henry closed his eyes once more, sighing. He had been hoping this would be a subject they never had to talk of again. "Yeah?"

Taking a long, slow breath, Matty forced himself to continue. "It wasn't just, like, a one off thing. I - I don't reckon you know much about, uh... About _gender_ , but it's a spectrum, you know that, yeah?"

"Kind of." Henry's voice had slowed and become somewhat monotonous: almost robotic. "I've heard of it, never understood."

Matty squeezed his eyes shut, feeling George's long digits grip his hand firmer when he saw Matty's expression. The younger boy's belly fluttered slightly as George did so, and he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth.

"Well, it's kind of hard to explain, but if you know what it _is_ , at least, that'll do, I suppose. Look, I'm just going to say it. Get it over with - that okay?"

"Yeah."

"I don't, um - I don't identify fully as a _boy_ , Henry. I mean, I do a bit, but it's a bit more complicated - sometimes I want to look more like a girl, right, 'cause I feel more comfortable like that sometimes. It's kind of hard to explain, but I felt like I needed to tell you."

George smiled encouragingly across at Matty as he heard his words, feeling hopeful about Henry's response - he didn't know Henry very well, but he couldn't see how anyone who knew Matty could give him up because of this.

For a few seconds, all Matty heard was the static sound of Henry's breathing. "Alright."

"You don't mind?"

"No."

Matty frowned, not sure how to take this or respond.

"Well, uh - good luck with your exams, I guess. See you next Tuesday for English?"

"Yeah."

Matty lowered his phone with a shaking hand, hitting the end call button and leaving his phone upside down on the table. Slowly, infinitesimally, he leaned down to press his forehead on his right arm, clutching tighter to George's hand as he did so. He let his right ear rest on his arm, turning his head to face the kitchen door.

"I... Did it not go well?"

Matty shook his head the best he could in his position, licking his lower lip.

"I couldn't really tell. He got all... robotic. Like he wasn't really listening, like he was on autopilot."

George covered Matty's hand with his free hand, smothering Matty's smaller palm and fingers with his own, large hands. "I'm sure he'll come around, love."

Nodding slowly, Matty lifted his head from his arm as the tingling sensation of blood leaving his limb got too much. "Can we go out somewhere?"

"Sure."

"Can you bring your weed?"

~~~  
  


Matty and George ended up on the slowly rusting swings in George's weed park, which frequented less often these days. George had insisted on only rolling one spliff at a time - "it's less likely we'll waste any that way" - though, in reality, he just wanted something that had touched Matty's lips to be between his own.

Of course, it wasn't as if George had a lack of Matty's lips in his life anymore: they hadn't discussed labels or anything, but they certainly hadn't stopped kissing since last week, and while they hadn't really spoken about it, Matty and George were both pleased with this arrangement.

George was still on his swing, not moving in the slightest except for to take the spliff from Matty, place it to his lips, inhale, and give it back. He was motionless as he watched Matty push himself back and forth gently, keeping his feet on the floor at all times: more of a rocking motion than a swinging one.

"I thought some more about pronouns, you know." Matty announced, bringing the lit spliff between his lips to take a drag before leaning over to George and allowing him to pull it from between his fingers.

"Hm?"

"I think I'd prefer neutral pronouns for now. At least from you."

George nodded, inhaling the drug and passing it back. "Alright, love."

Matty grinned at him, taking the spliff and watching as it continued to slowly burn away between their fingers. "Cheers."

George slipped off his swing to stumble a few metres away from Matty, before spinning to face them and plonking himself down on the grass, sitting with his legs spread slightly and his knees bent. He jerked his head backwards slightly and patted the ground next to him, prompting Matty to join him on the dry ground.

The second Matty was leaning down to sit next to him, George pulled them in with a hand on the back of their neck for a kiss: simple, but long and meaningful. Instead of sitting next to George as they had planned, Matty instead swung a leg over George's, sitting on their knees and hovering just above George. It wasn't often that Matty could feel taller than George, and they wanted to take advantage of the opportunity since it had arisen.

Matty still had the spliff between their first two fingers as they deepened the kiss, their armpit resting on George's shoulder so that their right arm splayed out straight behind him, the joint slowly crumbling into ashes and falling to the floor.

George's left hand made its way to Matty's lower back, pulling their torso and belly closer to his own, his right hand snaking up to tangle itself in Matty's soft curls.

As they kissed and the spliff burned away, Matty felt a hard drop of rain plant itself on the top of their head, causing them to jump away from George and out of the kiss.

"George, love, as much as I'm enjoying this-" They stood slowly, unwillingly, offering a hand to pull George up too- "I'd really rather not get too wet if it's going to rain."

George chuckled, nodding, and started off back to his house, since it was closer than Matty's. No sooner than they had started moving, the volume of rain increased, absolutely hammering it down onto their skulls and shoulders. Matty bumbled closer to George for the warmth: they were only wearing a thin black t-shirt, and they were already getting chilly from the damp.

Noticing Matty's closeness, George wrapped an arm around their waist, pulling them in so that their sides pressed together as they walked. It meant they had to walk slower to avoid kicking each other accidentally, and they were both getting drenched, but both of the pair felt it to be a worthwhile consequence, George smiling in contentment as he realised they were walking exactly in time.

By the time Matty and George had stumbled into George's house, turning sideways slightly to fit through the door and almost tripping up on the sliding doormat, they were both utterly drenched. Matty's hair had become sadly deflated, the ringlets almost straight with the weight of water clinging on.

Still, they both took the time to slide their shoes off at the entrance before dragging themselves upstairs to George's room, leaving a damp trail behind them. It was only when they had burst into the comfortingly warm bedroom that they realised their fingers were interlocked clumsily, their hands becoming clammy with the mixture of water and warmth from each other's bodies.

Matty reluctantly slipped their hand away from George's, shaking off the little droplets of water that clung to their fingertips. George stared at their fingers as Matty dragged them away, watching their every movement, from the jolt of their shoulder to the way they flicked their fingers from underneath their thumb.

Realising that he was staring, George turned away to rifle through his drawers, looking for a spare set of clothes. The jeans he had borrowed from Matty were right at the top, so he picked them out with a random black t-shirt and turned to fling the clothes in Matty's direction. Grabbing another set for himself, George shut the drawer and began to change, noticing that they hadn't started changing.

He gestured at the jeans. "Those are the ones I borrowed, by the way."

Matty nodded stiltedly, beginning to tug their shirt off. The soaking fabric chafed their skin slightly as they pulled it up over their face, feeling it stick slightly to their face. "What should I do with this?"

George shrugged: his shirt had been discarded on the floor, and he was currently shirtless which was something of a distraction to Matty, though certainly not an inconvenience. "Give it here, I'll hang it up in the airing cupboard."

For a moment, Matty thought that George would have to leave the room, giving them a chance to change jeans without George there, but, of course, the airing cupboard was in George's room. Reluctantly, after pulling their fresh, dry shirt over their head, Matty began to shimmy out of their trousers.

"You seem so on edge, love. It isn't like you've not changed in front of me before."

Matty blushed at George's words, looking away from him as they turned around to push their trousers down.

"Oh my - fuck, Matty, you could've just asked me to look away, oh my god, mate." George, however, didn't find himself looking away from the sight he had been greeted with: Matty's bare arse. Apparently Matty had decided not to wear underwear today - presumably they hadn't expected to change in front, and had it not rained, this would not have been a problem. Not that it _was_ a problem: the only problem was the possibility of George having a little problem of his own if he didn't stop looking.

Matty shrugged, reaching their hand out behind them, fortunately unable to see George's eyes still focused on their arse, completely unable to look away. After all, we all know Matty does have a wonderful bum. "Jeans." George handed them the dry jeans, their fingers brushing together once more, George inhaling quickly and quietly at the fleeting contact.

"I'll, uh - I'll get you a towel. For your hair."

George staggered out of the room, leaning on the walls as he moved down the hallway to the bathroom. _That was not fair._ He stood on his tiptoes to open the cupboard above the basin that contained their towels, blindly selecting a red, fluffy one. He walked slowly back to his room, trying to take as much time as possible in case Matty hadn't finished yet.

In all honesty, George wasn't quite sure whether he wanted Matty to have their trousers back up yet or not, but when he walked through the door, Matty was decent once more, and sitting on the bed with their hands in their lap, looking around at the posters on George's walls that they had surely seen all of by now.

George approached Matty, holding out the small towel to them. They were both holding back smirks at the situation they had just been in as Matty's fingers gently tore the towel out of George's grip, the eye contact between the pair of them forcing them both to burst out into full-on grins.

Matty wrapped the towel around their hair as George hopped onto his bed, lying with his shoulders and head propped up by the wall behind the bed. His laptop had been sitting at the foot of his bed, so he set it on his lap, turning it on.

"C'mere, let's watch a film."

Matty beamed at the boy, joining him on the bed, though instead of lying down, they sat with their side against George's left side, with their knees pulled up to their chest their head lying on the front of George's left shoulder. George instinctually wrapped his left arm around the back of Matty's waist, letting his hand rest on the opposite hip.

"What d'you wanna watch, love?" Matty shrugged in reply. Honestly, they weren't really bothered about a film at all, they just wanted to be this close to George for the next two hours that the film would give them - well, they wanted to be this close to him _forever_ , realistically, but hey, they'd take what they were given.

"Don't mind. Whatever you don't have to move to get."

George chuckled quietly, turning his head to press a kiss to Matty's temple, causing them to grin and blush gently, goosebumps crawling up their arms.

"I've got Suicide Room in at the minute." George had been extremely disgruntled when Netflix had removed Suicide Room, and had immediately bought it because he was an emo fuck who was a little bit in love with Dominik Santorski and didn't even have to google it to get the name of the main character right, though his spelling may have been off.

"I've not seen it, I don't think. If you've watched it recently it's okay though."

"Nah." George shook his head, grimacing. "It's just normally in my laptop. I watch it a lot."

"You fucking emo piece of shit, George." Matty pressed their lips to George's, taking advantage of the fact that George still hadn't looked away from him.

"Shut up, I'm not emo anymore. You're the one who only wears black." George mumbled, his lips still dangerously close to Matty's, brushing against theirs as he spoke.

"Mm, true." Matty closed the small gap once more before leaning their head back on George's chest. "Come on then you fucking emo, show me what you've got."

George raised his eyebrows, his chest shaking slightly in silent laughter at the possible ways to take that. Matty felt it, of course, shaking their head gently with a smile at George's mind.

"You know," George started, chuckling. "It wasn't like you were ever going to get out of changing, love. You knew you were staying over tonight, and you _still_ didn't wear underwear. Did you just not think about it, or what?" Matty just blushed: they hadn't really thought ahead when they got dressed this morning, but they supposed there were worse people to see them naked.

The two of them fidgeted a fair bit for the first half of the film, struggling to find a comfortable position that had as much bodily contact as possible. After an hour or so, however, they ended up both lying down, George flat on his back with Matty curled up, mostly on top of George's chest because Matty is fucking tiny and nowhere near 5"11.

It wasn't until the end of the film when the friends Dominik made online turn off their internet in respect for him that George realised Matty was crying, their shoulders shuddering almost imperceptibly against his chest, his breath gently shaking with every exhale, slowed in an attempt Matty was making to calm themself down.

The moment George noticed Matty's behaviour, he moved his arm up from the small of Matty's back to stroke their hair, embracing their shoulders with the other arm as best as he could with Matty curled up the way they were.

"Hey, hey, hey - it's okay, love; just a film. It's all fine, yeah?"

Matty sniffed, pulling themself up and closer to George's neck. They rolled over slightly so they could bury their face in the crook of George's neck, resting their arms along each side of George's ribs, their hands gripping George's sides, just below his armpits.

George used this new position to kiss the crown of their head, rubbing Matty's back, just between their shoulder blades firmly, using the pressure to keep Matty grounded to him. "Deep breaths, yeah?"

Matty wasn't crying much: they were slow tears, tears that were almost unwilling to emerge, content with constricting Matty's throat and making their chest tighten and ache with sadness. Matty squeezed their eyes shut, forcing their breathing to slow down even more. George could feel Matty's eyes close against the sensitive skin on his neck, their damp eyelashes fluttering against George's throat, making his heart clench.

George rubbed Matty's back with his right hand, his left hand tangled in Matty's curls, gently massaging their scalp, his fingers twisting in their hair as he did so. Honestly, George wasn't sure what was wrong: obviously he knew that film was fucking sad - he's watched it enough to be fairly numb to it, though, and hadn't really thought about how it might affect Matty, but he hadn't expected their reaction to be _this_ bad.

Still: George continued comforting Matty gently until they fell asleep on George's chest, their breathing fluttering against George's shoulder, their arms tightening around George's body as they slept.

 


	9. Actions and Consequences

Matty had their icy fingers wrapped firmly around one of the large mugs of tea that George's mum had brought up to them both: they had left their arms out from under the duvet all night, tucked up to their chest, and the chilly air of the night time had really got to their hands. George had his mug in his left hand, his fingers tucked into the handle, and his right arm around Matty's back as they sat squeezed up to each other against the headboard of his bed.

"Do you want to talk about last night?"

Matty knew that George didn't want to be too nosy or anything, and honestly if Matty had had a reason for crying so easily at the film, they would have told George, but there was no real reason they could think of. They were just a bit sad sometimes, and that film had really brought it on - understandably, so Matty had thought, though apparently George was certain it ran deeper than the fact it's a fucking sad and emo film.

George was, in fact, utterly certain that it was more than Matty just being a bit sad. Yeah, no film called Suicide Room is going to be happy, but Matty had seemed distraught, not just dejected.

"Nothing to talk about, George." Matty twisted their upper body slightly away from him to lean their back against George's shoulder, letting him wrap his arm loosely around Matty's neck so it draped down their chest. "Just felt a bit off. Reckon the film just got to me a bit too much."

George nodded, finding it easier to agree rather than push the subject and potentially upset Matty. He shuffled his legs around under the duvet, stilling for a moment when his own legs collided with Matty's, allowing their bare skin to come into contact for a few seconds before continuing to move around, crossing his legs.

Matty was picking through their brain, trying to grab onto a new topic of conversation, finding themself to be coming up pretty much blank as George's legs were pressed against their own.

"Uh - how many exams have you got left?"

"Six after half term." George paused, trying to recall how many exams Matty had previously told George they have remaining. "You've got - what, three after half term?"

"Yeah. Maths, Music, and Philosophy."

"Not too bad."

"I s'pose not."

It hadn't been much in way of conversation, but it was better than the silence that they had been sitting in, with their limbs awkwardly tangling with each other's whenever they got fidgety.

"They been alright so far, though?"

Matty nodded absent-mindedly, drumming their fingers on the side of the mug, the ring they wore, clanging abrasively against the porcelain. "Biology was a bit of a bitch, but yeah. Not bad."

"Glad I'm never doing science again, not gonna lie." Matty scoffed, twisting their neck to lean their face into George's throat.

"Lucky you." They murmured, the warm breath escaping from their lips ticking George's skin pleasantly. George turned his head slightly to lean his chin on the top of Matty's forehead, feeling their breath shake slightly as he did so.

"C'mere," George muttered, wrapping his hands around the sides of Matty's waist to lift them gently onto his lap, letting them lean their forehead against George's, the tips of their noses pressing against each other.

The shallow breaths being passed between them seemed to connect their lips in a way: the hot air feeling almost like a kiss in itself as it travelled between their lungs, fuelling each other's bodies. Of course, the feeling of oxygen passing between each of their lips was never going to be quite as good as Matty finally leaning in to push their lips against George's, the buzzing feeling between them twisting and growing, accentuating as they kissed.

George stroked his hands further around Matty's back, trailing his fingers achingly slowly up and down their spine, listening carefully as Matty's breathing stuttered whenever he bumped his finger over the lower parts of their back.

He tasted of tea - too black and bitter for Matty's tastes - and slightly bad breath, but they knew they probably did too, and to Matty, this felt like the most honest taste George could have.

Trust Matty to make morning breath romantic, but they supposed that this was the most raw taste of _just George_ that they would get.

Matty leaned away, keeping their forehead against George's and their eyes shut. They snaked their fingers into George's hair, holding him to them, keeping him close as they just breathed once more.

"Should we get up?" Matty mumbled, their lips brushing against George's as they quivered with Matty's words. George groaned, the noise ending in a sigh as he gripped Matty's waist once more, rubbing his thumbs up and down the waist of the small angel situated on his lap.

"I can't move. You're sitting on me. If you don't move, you're my excuse." Matty giggled, pressing their lips against George's once more with a smile on their mouth before swinging a leg back off George's lap to move away.

"Hey, you never know," they started, almost falling over from the slight head rush as they stepped off the bed. "Maybe your mum'll make us breakfast."

George chuckled, rolling his legs off the bed to stand. "She's probably at work by now. Think I heard her leave. What time's it?"

Matty picked their phone up from the cabinet by George's bed, swiping their notifications away. "Nearly ten."

"Guess we're stuck with toast then - not like either of us can cook, eh?"

Grinning, Matty placed their hands on George's waist, pulling him in closer. "I suppose not." They pecked the taller boy on the jaw, stepping on their tip toes, before pulling away to tug on the shirt George had given them yesterday. "C'mon, lazy."

Before long, they were curled up next to each other on the sofa in the living room, eating toast and Marmite, and laughing at the vague misfortunes of the people on Jeremy Kyle. The room was warm, almost uncomfortably so, yet Matty and George couldn't bring themselves to sit apart, with Matty instead sitting with their torso facing George and their legs over his lap, an arm around his shoulder to keep themself upright.

By the end of the programme, it was just past eleven, and Matty's mum had said she wanted them back for half past.

"Matty, love, you need to get off soon."

Matty pouted, leaning into George's neck. "I know. Five more minutes."

Smiling, George sighed, pressing a kiss to Matty's forehead. "Okay. Don't make your mum angry, though."

"I won't." Matty pushed their lips against George's neck, feeling the tall boy sigh, stretching his chin forward and his neck out. "Can we just kiss for five minutes?"

George replied in a physical form rather than verbal, twisting his head to kiss Matty properly, on the lips.

It ended up being more like ten minutes than five by the time Matty and George pulled themselves apart for long enough to get out the house, but they managed to lock the door behind them and hold hands to walk down the street. They were both vaguely aware that they'd have to let go after a few corners, and as they reached the final bend before a less friendly neighbourhood, they paused.

George leaned down to kiss Matty once more, deeply, finding himself unable to stop thinking about doing so, and cupped their jaw in his large hands. "Have a good day, yeah?"

Nodding, Matty leaned up, kissing George's cheek before stepping away from him slightly so that they could walk the final hundred metres to Matty's house in a very no homo silence. George left them when they reached Matty's house, giving them a quick hug, squeezing tightly before walking home.

~~~  
  


"I can't believe you've only got one left, mate."

"Fucking Maths, though." George rolled his eyes at Harry's pessimism. He was alright at maths, really, just not top of the class, and Harry had taken that to mean he was going to fail. Fortunately, that meant he'd revised more than anyone else had, and honestly he was probably the most prepared for out of everyone in their whole year at school.

Harry's mum was at work for the week, trusting him not to set the house on fire over half term, so he'd been left to fester in thoughts about Nick and the kisses they'd shared since Harry had shared his feelings with the boy. Sure, Nick had come over a few times, but he had a bunch of science exams left after half term so he had his head down in his studying, mostly.

All that meant that Harry basically had no one to talk to about his boyfriend, and he was absolutely bursting to tell _someone_ about what was going on.

And George just so happened to be bisexual and Harry's friend, so when he'd offered to meet up with Harry over half term, he wasn't exactly going to pass up the opportunity to tell someone who he knew would _get it_ about him and Nick.

"Hey, George - can I tell you something?"

George raised his eyebrows, nodding. "If we can go in the garden. I wanna spliff." There was a moment of silence as Harry considered. "I'll share?"

Huffing slightly, Harry pushed himself up off the sofa, offering a hand to George and pulling the tall boy up. He strode across the room, opening the stiff, sliding glass door that lead out to his pathetic garden. The grass was overgrown, and there were weeds all over what was originally meant to be a vegetable patch, but neither him or his mum had bothered to keep it up: it turned out to be more expensive and more effort than they had assumed.

The boys sat against the wall of the house, knees bent and backs pushed against the harsh, rough bricks. George pulled a little tin of weed and some papers out his pocket, beginning to roll a spliff.

"So what's up, mate?"

"Nothing's up - well, sort of, but not in a bad way. A fucking good way, actually."

"Oh?" George raised an eyebrow, placing the spliff between his lips.

"Yeah. It's Nick." George tilted his head to the side, patting his pockets to find his lighter. He found it, bringing it to his lips to ignite the end before shoving it back in his pocket. "Nothing serious, but I just wanted to tell someone, and I figured you wouldn't mind, since you're bi."

"Spit it out, mate." George took a drag before offering it to Harry, who held it between his fingers for a moment as he spoke.

"We're a bit together, George."

"Really?" Harry nodded, bringing the spliff to his lips and inhaling before passing it back to George. It was his, after all. "Since when?"

"About a week and a half ago. Last Tuesday."

"Took your time, didn't you?"

Frowning, Harry blew a breath out through his nose. "What d'you mean?"

"I mean, you've been flirting for God knows how long, it's been a bit frustrating, honestly."

Harry's eyes lit up as he grinned. "I wasn't sure if he was flirting back, you know? Thought I might have been imagining it - fuck, this could have happened ages ago."

"Mhmm, yeah." George took another drag, blowing a burst of smoke playfully at Harry before exhaling the rest through his nose in a snort at Harry's grimace. "How's it going, though?"

"Great, honestly." Harry smiled, pushing his feet forwards so his legs were flat against the ground, and looked at his hands, fiddling with his fingers. "We've not, like, _done_ much, but I don't reckon it'll be long."

George frowned, patting Harry's thigh. "You don't have to rush it, mate. You know that, yeah?"

"Course I know that. Don't wanna wait, though. 'S long as he's ready too, you know?"

"Yeah, I know what you mean."

"He means a lot to me, though." Harry let his head fall back against the wall, sighing as he did so. His eyes fluttered closed and he frowned.

"What's up, mate?"

"Nothing, really. Doesn't matter."

George nudged him with his shoulder, grinning, and offered Harry the spliff. Harry waved his hand away, moving to stand up again.

"I swear to god, Harry, don't try to pull that shit with me."

"I'll tell you in a few days, alright? I'm good, mate, I promise." The taller boy smirked, pushing himself up off the ground to pull Harry into a hug, gripping around his shoulders tightly.

"Alright, mate. Let's go back in, yeah?" He dropped the end of the spliff onto the slightly greening patio tiles, stepping up the small step into Harry's house, and flopped immediately back down on the sofa, lengthways, taking up the whole thing and leaving Harry to sit, disgruntled, in the armchair.

"What about Matty, hm?" George rolled his eyes in reply, staring up at the ceiling light - off, of course: it was summer so it was bright, and he wouldn't have had the stamina to look at it this long if it had been turned on. "Come on, don't give me that bollocks. You told me about your feelings for them fucking years ago."

"So?" George's gaze was still focussed on the ceiling, admiring the shitty artex patterns rather than Harry's voice.

"Just wondered mate, no need to get defensive." Harry folded his arms, raising his eyebrows. "Since you've been around each other a lot recently. Just wondered."

A corner of George's mouth lifted into a smirk, and he swung his legs over the side of the sofa to sit up properly, leaning against the arm of the sofa and resting his chin in his palm.

"We're not together, not _really_." Harry grinned at the younger boy, leaning forward slightly and cocking his head. "Look, you won't tell anyone, will you? Me and Matty haven't discussed this, y'know?"

"Course not, mate."

George grinned at his friend before dropping his head back onto the top of the sofa back. "We're not together, but we kiss a fair bit. _Properly_ kiss. And we go on date and shit, but nothing's like, set in stone."

"But you want it to be?"

"Fucking hell, Harry, did I not talk about them enough for the last two years? Of course I want a label, I just don't know how to bring it up."

Harry frowned at the mildly distressed boy. "What are you worried about?"

"It's a bit silly, really, but I don't want them to be all like, 'oh, were we not together already? Did that not count? I don't just kiss everyone, you know.'"

There was nothing Harry felt he could do to help, so he settled for directing a sympathetic half-smile in the boy's direction.

"I'm not really worried about that, though, I'm happy with it staying how it is for now." George frowned, taking a breath. "They met this boy in town the other day - Olly, I think. He's all Matty talks about at the minute, and I just - I don't want Olly to get there first, you know?"

"I know, George."

"But like, I'm still worried about approaching the idea of labels with Matty." George sighed, running a hand through his messy hair in frustration. "It's tricky, mate, it is."

"If you're kissing loads, you've probably not got anything to worry about." Harry dropped his smile as he stood, walking a few metres across the room to sit next to George, pulling him into a hug. "You should tell them, though. Get it over with."

"I know." George wrapped his arms underneath Harry's, squeezing his ribs tightly and burying his face in the boy's shoulder.

"Do it over half term, love. You'll feel better once it's done." George hummed, the sound morphing into a groan. "It's not that hard, I promise. Just tell Matty you want to be properly together, yeah?"

"Yeah." George sighed into Harry's shirt. "I suppose."

~~~  
  


Olly was sitting in the centre of his double bed with its perfect white sheets, lightly scrumpled from when he had scrambled onto the bed, laptop in one hand and phone in the other. He was cross-legged, his laptop just in front of him and his phone to his left, screen facing up, on speaker phone. Matty's name and stupid selfie they'd taken for Olly's contact of them were brightly lit up on the screen, and Olly could hear them giggling from the other end.

They'd been on a phone call for nearly two hours now, quite passively: they were both doing their own thing, enjoying the noises of each other breathing and shuffling about once in awhile. Sometimes, a few words were exchanged, but mostly both of them were happy in silence, not interrupting each other's thoughts and just existing together, if only from a distance.

It wasn't like Olly and Matty had known each other long. Matty supposed they must have seen Olly out and about before, but hadn't really noticed him until the other week in town, when Olly had offered to buy them a cup of tea and a bit of cake. They'd made sure Olly didn't mean it like a date, of course - not that he wasn't very pretty, but Matty wasn't sure what was going on with George just now, and wanted to hope that they were some sort of couple, and therefore didn't want to fuck that up straight away.

They had gone with Olly to get that tea, though. Not to the little tea shop that had become special to Matty and George, just to fucking Costa where the drinks weren't anywhere near as nice as the pretentious tea place, but they'd had a nice time with him, and got a free cup of tea or two out of it, so that was a plus.

Olly was a bit of fun for Matty, really: nice to look at, friendly, just generally a pretty lovely person to be around, but it wasn't like Matty thought he would be a better boyfriend than George. Because, honestly, George was the only person that Matty really _wanted_ to spend time with; they just didn't want to feel like they were annoying George a bit by being too clingy as they had been feeling for the last few weeks. In fact, if Matty hadn't been worried that they were spending too much time bothering George, they probably wouldn't have agreed to get tea with Olly in the first place, and they certainly wouldn't have called him for two hours.

Matty just felt they needed someone else to dispel some of their efforts onto - someone who wouldn't get frustrated with it, because Olly had only known him a week and a half, so he couldn't be bored with him yet. If Matty were honest with themself, they would admit that they just enjoyed the feeling of being cared for and given attention, because Matty was human, and at their core was a craving - a _need_ to be loved.

~~~  
  


By the Saturday of half term, George had texted Matty, as he did most days, and arranged a date/meet up in their little tea shop. They had walked through the door holding hands, the little bell tinkling and signifying for the man in his twenties at the till to look up and smile warmly at them both.

"Hi, guys. What can I get you today?"

Matty turned to George, their eyes lighting up as they grabbed George's other hand, lifting both of the tall boy's hands up as they bounced on the balls of their feet. "Can I have the rosebud tea again, Georgie?"

"Course you can, love."

"You have to have the peppermint one again, oh my god, it can match last time - it can be a tradition, can we please?"

George rolled his eyes, pulling Matty into a one-armed hug as he trudged towards the till, smiling at the barista. "One rosebud tea if you're still doing it, and a peppermint and liquorice, please."

"Sure. Take a seat wherever." The man chuckled as Matty dragged George away to the same sofa they had chosen the first time they came, latching onto George's hand with all their force.

They chatted idly as they waited for their drinks, not really staying on any one topic long enough to have a proper conversation about it, discussing whether Matty should get fairy lights like the twinkly ones in the tea shop for their bedroom, whether George needed a haircut - Matty didn't think so, enjoying the slightly longer length of George's hair when they kissed.

There was only one other person in the tea shop today - a girl with revision materials spread out across a large table and headphones on, so Matty and George weren't exactly bothered about keeping their PDA to a minimum, exchanging long kisses between sentences, George with a hand on Matty's thigh, and Matty with their shoes off and feet playing with the bottom of George's jeans.

When their drinks arrived, Matty cradled their rosebud tea in their hands, thankful that it wasn't too hot to do so and George swivelled his upper body to face Matty properly. "Look, I uh - I do actually have an ulterior motive to bringing you here, love."

"Oh?" Matty raised their eyebrows, leaning their head against the back of the sofa.

"Yeah, uh - this might sound a bit silly, but I'm kind of nervous about-" George exhaled through his nose, looking down at his lap. "About labels, Matty. What are we? I mean, we kiss and act coupley - for fuck's sake, we're on a bloody date, but-"

Matty cut the lost boy off by leaning in to kiss him, smiling, and removing a hand from the mug to run their fingers through his hair and down to the back of his neck. When they pulled away, it was only slightly, so that when they next spoke the movement of their lips caused them to brush against George's, creating little tickles of sensation against George's upper lip.

"Be my boyfriend, Georgie."

George simply tilted his head to reconnect their lips properly, enjoying the gentle movements of Matty's lips against his own, Matty honing in on the light tugging of George's teeth against their bottom lip as they kissed, the barista focusing on drying a mug particularly thoroughly as they did so.


	10. Consequences and Bodies

Harry and Nick were sitting cross-legged on Harry’s shitty patio, their knees touching Nick with his left hand in Harry’s right, a cigarette in his other hand. Harry’s spare hand was wrapped around Nick’s neck, keeping him close as they kissed, Nick’s cigarette slowly turning to ash as their lips moved together.

Harry had originally pushed his lips against his boyfriend’s due to nerves about telling Nick all that he had to, but over the last few minutes of almost bruising contact he had forgotten that he had kissed Nick to avoid actually speaking to him about anything that mattered in the slightest.

It was only when Nick gently pulled away, Harry following his lips instinctually for a moment, to take a drag of his cigarette that Harry’s plans to tell Nick about the move came crashing back down on him. Nick leaned back into the older boy as soon as he’d blown the smoke from his lungs, his tongue tasting of cigarettes as he stubbed out his cigarette on the ground and brought his hand up to tangle his fingers in Harry’s thick hair.

Harry gave in once more for a moment, enjoying this most excellent method of procrastination, before pulling away and linking both their hands.

“Nick, love, I - I need to tell you something.” Nick raised his eyebrows, leaning in to kiss Harry’s cheek before speaking.

“What’s up? Thought you were a bit quiet.”

Frowning and closing his eyes, Harry lowered his head to face his lap and took a deep breath. “I’m moving away, Nick. It’s Mum’s work.”,

Slowly, Nick pulled his hands from Harry’s, causing the older boy to look up at him, concerned until Nick lifted his hands to cup Harry’s jaw. “Hey, it’s - well, it’s not _okay_ , but it’s okay, you know?” Nick smiled gently, leaning in to press a quick kiss to Harry’s lips, keeping hold of his jaw. “We can still meet up, love.”

Harry grimaced, biting his lip. “That’s the thing, I, uh - she needs to move to fucking Newcastle, Nick. You can literally get a _plane_ from here to there, it’s a bit far to pop over for a cup of tea and fuck.”

“Shit.” Nick’s face visibly fell from its happy, carefree state, his eyebrows lowering and his lips slipping out of their smirk. He looked up to see Harry looking utterly forlorn at his expression, and forced a smile onto his face, moving his right hand up to stroke through his boyfriend’s hair. “We can text, right? And I’ll call you at _least_ every other day, and we can Skype and all that; it’ll be fine, love. I promise, we can do this.”

Harry turned his head to the side slightly, leaning into Nick’s touch as he did so, his eyes falling shut. “Nick, I…” Harry wasn’t entirely sure how to continue, honestly: he’d been wanting this relationship for _months_ , and the second it was there and happening, it was being torn away from him. His chest heaved as he drew in a shuddering breath, forcing himself to look into Nick’s eyes as he spoke. “It’s not going to work once I move, Nick.”

Nick let out the breath he had been holding in a quiet sigh, licking his lips before sucking his bottom lip into his mouth.

“You _know_ I want to be with you, you know it, but you _must_ know that it won’t be enough once I’m fucking three hundred miles away. It’s a three hour train journey, you _know_ neither of us can afford that.”

Breathing deeply, Nick removed his hands from Harry’s face, leaving their knees touching as he dug out a second cigarette from his pocket, lighting it, and placing it between his lips as he shoved the box and lighter back in his pocket. He took a drag, blowing the smoke out to the side to avoid getting it in Harry’s face before offering the cigarette to his boyfriend.

Harry took it, almost reluctantly: it wasn’t like he never smoked, but he tried not to do it often; he supposed that his was a situation that allowed a quick one, however. They smoked together in silence, sharing the one cigarette until Nick threw it to the ground, having been staring Harry straight in the eyes for several minutes, and latched his hands onto the back of the boy’s neck, tugging him back in to kiss him once more.

This kiss was different to their previous kisses: just as passionate, but now more frantic and unpredictable, both boys becoming a mess of limbs as Harry stroked his hands up and down Nick’s sides as Nick ran his fingers and palms lightly over Harry’s neck and shoulders. It wasn’t long until Nick had his hands just under Harry’s armpits, tugging him up with him as he stood.

Nick pushed the older boy backwards towards the sliding glass door leading into the house, directing him with short, one-word commands whenever there was something in the way, his hands roaming over the expanse of Harry’s back as their lips moved feverishly. At the stairs, Harry broke away from Nick, grinning, before grabbing his hand and pulling him upstairs to his room.

~~~  
  


Matty was sitting cross-legged at the pillow end of Olly’s large bed, running their fingers along the patterns of his duvet cover: some sort of abstract cityscape, they reckoned. Olly had gone downstairs to get them both a cup of tea from the kitchen, leaving Matty to acquaint themself with his room. Matty hadn’t really taken the opportunity to heart, simply sliding onto the bed and looking around at Olly’s clean walls, the only thing covering the off-white colour being a noticeboard with various nicely developed photographs on of Olly and people who Matty presumed were mainly friends and exes.

There was a fairly organised desk with an open folder, but nothing really of note. .Matty had expected Olly’s room to be more _chaotic_ , almost, and honestly this had come as nothing but a shock to them.

Matty looked up with a grin when he heard the door open slowly as Olly pushed the handle down with his elbow. “Here you go.”

Matty gratefully took a mug when Olly approached them, allowing Olly to go back and shut the door properly. “Cheers.”

Olly joined them on the bed, sitting about a foot in front of Matty to blow his tea without drinking any - he knew it would be too hot, and didn’t really feel up to a burnt tongue. “How have you been, love?”

Matty giggled through their reply. “Since we last called two days ago? I’ve been excellent Olly.”

Olly rolled his eyes at Matty’s response, pushing their knee with the heel of his palm. “How’s George?”

“He’s brilliant, yeah.” Matty beamed as they spoke, holding the mug at their side with one hand to avoid burning themself. “You know, he has this park, right - the Weed Park. It’s like, abandoned, I guess, and he just goes there to get high. I think his friends go sometimes, too - he’s brought me there a few times, it’s quite weird there, honestly. Lots of graffiti and things. Grungy, almost.”

“Maybe you could take me there one day.” Olly lifted his eyebrows at Matty, watching as they frowned and looked away.

“I don’t know, Olly. It’s kind of _his_ place, you know?”

“Right.” Olly reached across to put a hand on Matty’s arm in a gesture of comfort. “No need to look so down about it, love. Just a suggestion.”

“I know.” Matty put their hand over Olly’s shifting it off of their arm to lace their fingers together absentmindedly. “I know.”

“What’s in this park then, love?” Olly smiled reassuringly at Matty, as if giving them permission to keep talking about George.

“There are these swings - three of them are broken to some degree, but one of them still works, and he pushes me on it sometimes.” Matty paused their sentence to giggle softly at the memory of George pushing them as far as he could, Matty’s legs swinging back and forth in the air. “And there’s this slide with a little like, castle on top where we sit to smoke. And this creepy metal seesaw, kind of rusty and red.”

“Sounds a bit scary, honestly.”

Matty shrugged. “Not really, you get used to it, I-”

Matty was cut off by Olly’s lips pushing against their own, the soft flesh derailing their thought process. They brought their free hand up to rest on the side of Olly’s neck, cupping the pale skin, as Olly stroked his hands around Matty’s waist to rest on their lower back, pulling them forward. Matty kept a hand on their mug, making sure it didn’t spill on the pristine duvet until Olly pulled away from them to place the mug on the floor.

Bringing their lips together with a little more force this time, Olly crawled forwards to push Matty backwards so their head hit the pillows, and straddled the brunet with a knee either side of their waist.

It was Olly’s hand on Matty’s side that snapped them out of this little bubble, the almost full body contact of Olly’s chest pressed against Matty’s reminding them of George.

Matty turned their head to the side, beginning to speak before Olly started pressing kisses to the pale expanse of their neck. “Fuck - Olly, no, I can’t do this.”

Olly frowned, pulling back from his position at Matty’s collarbone. “What is it?”

“I have a boyfriend, Olly. I thought you knew - shit, George is all I talk about, what did you expect?”

Sitting up and allowing Matty to extract themself from underneath him, Olly sat back in his earlier position, cross-legged at the end of the bed. “Fuck, Matty - I’m sorry, I figured you were just close. Shit, I’m sorry.”

Matty shook their head, stepping off the bed and straightening their t-shirt, making sure their jeans were rolled up equally before stepping towards the door, turning to face Olly just before he left, seeing that the boy had his hands in his hair and his eyes shut. “No need, mate. My fault, really. I’ll text you later, yeah?”

“Sure.”

Matty sent an awkward, lopsided smile in Olly’s direction before quietly shutting the door behind them. They hurried downstairs, slipping on their shoes and shrugging their bag onto their back, exiting the house. They walked hurriedly to the nearest bus stop, and waited anxiously for the next but to George’s house - it would be a number 47, if they recalled correctly as they shuffled back and forth underneath the shitty glass shelter, less smashed up than those nearer their house. Matty supposed it was a nicer neighbourhood here.

Matty bobbed their knee during the whole bus journey, wanting to get to George’s house _now_ , and practically ran off the bus to jog the five minute walk to George’ house, making it there in three minutes. They knocked on the door messily, rather than the usual rhythm they used, bouncing on the balls of their feet as they waited for George to open the door: they knew that George’s mum would be at work, so it should just be him home.

When George answered the door almost a minute later, Matty took barely a second to take in his shirtless form and unstyled hair - George hadn’t left the house yet that day - before almost jumping up the small step inside. They took George’s face in their hands, standing on their tiptoes to reach up and kiss the tall boy urgently.

George pulled away after a few seconds, a little confused. “Hey, what’s up?”

Matty shook their head, kissing George again. “Need you.”

George immediately latched back onto Matty’s lips, his large hands travelling around their waist and back as he backed them slowly into a wall, careful not to push them against it too hard. Matty arched their back with the contact of the hard surface, gasping when George bit their lower lip, his fingers digging into their sides softly. They stroked their fingers up George’s spine, feeling the bumps and dips of his vertebrae as George travelled his lips down to Matty’s throat to nibble just below their ear. He tucked Matty’s hair away before sucking and biting at the sensitive skin, hoping Matty would be able to cover it with their curls. He ran his hands back down to squeeze Matty’s arse, hearing them whimper slightly as he did so and revelling in the soft sound.

George gripped Matty’s hand, interlacing their fingers and pulling away to lead them upstairs. Matty followed easily, smirking as they ran upstairs together and shutting the bedroom door behind them.

Almost immediately, George had Matty pressed against the door, the hard wood pressing into Matty’s spine. His hands were pushing up underneath Matty’s shirt, rubbing circles onto their hips, his fingernails digging into Matty’s flesh while their lips moved together desperately. After a few moments, George was lifting Matty’s shirt over their head, dropping it by their feet and reconnecting their lips.

“Yours too.” George smirked, tugging off his top and leaving it piled with Matty’s on the carpet. Matty ran his fingers down George’s taut stomach, scratching a little as they did so, watching how George’s chest shuddered as he breathed in.

“C’mere.” George gripped Matty’s hips firmly, dragging them closer to him and gasping as they placed wet kisses to his jaw, walking their kisses down to his collarbone. George walked backwards, falling onto the bed and pulled Matty on top of him.

Matty continued sucking George’s collarbone, leaving red marks just above it, their hips high in the air with George’s large hands slowly creeping underneath their jeans and underwear, his fingertips brushing against their flesh. They sat up on their knees for a moment to put the button on their jeans open, wiggling out of them and their boxers and throwing them to the side.

George wrapped a hand around Matty’s cock without a second thought, thumbing over the slit in slow movements, appreciating the needy whines tumbling from Matty’s plush lips. He let his other hand drift over to stroke at Matty’s hole, bathing in the way they fell onto his chest, their skin palpably dampening as they breathed heavily against George’s neck.

“Jeans, Georgie.” Matty’s hips were still high enough in the air that George could wiggle his jeans off from underneath them: this time, it was George who hadn’t bothered wearing underwear, since he wasn’t planning on leaving the house. The second his cock was free, Matty had their fragile fingers wrapped around it, sitting up once more to get a better angle.

“Condoms in the top drawer, Matty.” Matty smirked, leaning down to suck a quick bruise into George’s throat before hopping off the bed and grabbing a condom from the small box and the lube buried next to it. With his freedom of movement now Matty wasn’t on top of him, George flicked his jeans off his ankles, discarding them next to the bed and curling a hand around his dick as Matty knelt next to him on the bed.

They took hold of George’s wrist, pulling his hand away to roll the condom over George’s dick slowly, making sure to push their thumb gently under the head. George’s hips bucked up into Matty’s hand once they finished and started moving their hand, twisting their wrist as they did so, causing George to squeeze his eyes shut with a gasping moan.

George reached up and placed two fingers on Matty’s lips, watching as they sucked them into their mouth, coating them with spit before his pulled them back out again. “Turn around, love.”

  
Matty switched position so that their bum was facing George but they were still straddling him. They whimpered as George began to wiggle his middle finger into them, pushing their hips back against them. “You’ve done this before, yeah?”

“Mhmm - yeah, Georgie, I have-” Matty cut themself off with a high pitched moan. “More, please.”

George groaned as he worked another finger in beside the first, his head falling back at the sight of Matty rocking back and forth, fucking themself on his fingers. He wiggled them around, trying to find Matty’s prostate with his digits. After a few moments, Matty let out a drawn-out moan, bucking their hips towards George, forcing more pressure against his spot.

“George, please - fuck me, George, _shit_.” Matty turned around once more, keeping George’s fingers in their arse as they moved. George removed them slowly, eliciting a needy whine from Matty at the feeling until George placed his palms on their hips, his fingers pressing into the soft flesh of their arse as he pulled them down onto his cock.

Matty moved slowly at first: it had been a while since they’d bottomed last, and they wanted to get used to the feeling so fucking _full_ , to savour the sensation. They placed their hands delicately on George’s chest, using them as leverage to bounce carefully, being sure to keep George inside them. George quickly became frustrated with the speed, and craned his head up to watch Matty’s curls bounce as they moved, dancing across their cheeks and intermingling with the rosy blush adorning their features.

He took a little control, gripping Matty’s hips tighter to speed up their movements, lifting them up and down. Matty quickly took the hint, moving of their own volition once more as whimpers and moans drew themselves out of their lips. The noises Matty made alone were, in George’s opinion, almost art: beautifully and horrifically explicit, the sounds of absolute pleasure as Matty raked their painted fingernails down George’s chest, leaving strawberry pink marks behind.

George let go of Matty’s hips, using them to push himself up into a sitting position before wrapping them around Matty’s waist, connecting their lips furiously as Matty bounced in his lap. Matty whined at the slightly changing angle, rocking back and forth against George, appreciating the friction between their cock and George’s stomach as they did so.

George buried his face in Matty’s neck, sucking at their trapezius muscle before placing his hands on their hips once more, lifting them up. “Hands and knees,” he stated, pressing open-mouthed, wet kissed to the base of Matty’s spine, travelling his lips up to the spot between their shoulder blades and grazing his teeth along their spine as he pushed back into the weakening pale angel.

Matty let out an outrageously pornographic moan at the fresh angle, feeling George go deeper than before and brush repeatedly against their prostate, causing all sorts of whimpers to form in their throat. They could feel the pressure building in their belly, and began to move their hips back against George’s in time, listening to the groans George was emitting.

The tall boy reached a hand around from Matty’s hip to wrap his fingers round their cock, pumping them in time with his thrusts. He could feel himself getting close as quickly as Matty, and leaned down to kiss the expanse of Matty’s back, sucking a hickey just below their right shoulder blade. This extra sensation was what absolutely _threw_ Matty over the edge, and they shuddered back onto George’s dick, spilling all over his fist and the soft duvet, clenching around George, whose rhythm became sloppier as he let go into the condom.

George stilled for a moment, continuing to press his lips to Matty’s shoulder before pulling out and tying the condom, throwing it into his bin. Matty rolled over, chest heaving as they lay on their back. They held their arms out, wiggling their fingers at their boyfriend, who crawled back up the bed to lie next to them. Matty immediately cuddled up into his chest, avoiding the cum on the bed and pressing their face into the warm crook of George’s neck.

They felt George’s fingers trailing up and down their waist, wiggling closer to the tall boy and into the sensation of affection.

Matty was only half conscious when he heard George mutter, his words muffled by Matty’s hair.

“Think I might love you, Matty.”


	11. Bodies and Memories

****Nick Grimshaw was sitting opposite Olly Alexander, watching as the brunet studied the flames dancing in the small fire pit between them. Occasionally, Olly's eyes would flicker up and meet Nick's, and he would do that awkward English half-smile before looking back down at his hands, and then up at the fire once more.

They were sitting in George's garden. The tall boy had spent a good deal of time persuading his mum to let him make a little fire pit in their garden, and he'd only just got it done. It was the day before they would receive their GCSE results, and George had decided it was a good idea to have a little reunion since so many of them were going to different colleges and sixth forms.

Matty was to Nick's left, cuddled into George's side, who had an arm wrapped around their shoulders, his hand rubbing up and down slightly, moving from the wrist, on Matty's arm in a vaguely comforting manner. It was almost one in the morning now, and Matty was starting to get sleepy - bless them, honestly.

Matty and George had noticed Nick staring at Olly, and were intrigued, but this was very probably - no matter how little any of them wanted to admit it - the last time they would see each other. Matty supposed that since they'd never known Olly from school, perhaps they would still see him out and about, but didn't hold up too much hope. Matty and him hadn't spoken very much since the kiss anyway, and Matty thought that maybe that was for the best: less pressure for them to tell George about it all. Matty had _tried_ to tell George that they and Olly had kissed, of _course_ they had, but the words hadn't come out.

_George had invited Matty round his house, and Matty had gratefully obliged, as always: George had told them that his mum was out, and Matty had got there as quickly as possible. About halfway to his house, however, Matty had stuck their hands in their pockets and bitten their lip, realising that they hadn't really spoken to George since they kissed Olly. They'd fucked, and had idle chatter over breakfast the next morning, but nothing serious, just wank, really. Matty was aware that they shouldn't keep such a thing secret: it was, after all, just a kiss, and they didn't think that George would really hold it against them._

_When Matty stepped into George's house, they greeted George with a quick, firm kiss on the mouth before walking straight into the kitchen, busying themself with the kettle. They made up their mind to tell George the second he came into the kitchen, like ripping off a plaster, but when George came in to ask why Matty had rushed into the kitchen without properly saying hello to their boyfriend, Matty bottled._

_"Just really want a cup of Earl Grey."_

_George had believed them, smiling gently before retrieving what he and his mum now respected as Matty's mug from the cupboard. After all, wanting a cup of Earl Grey was reasonable in George's eyes: the blend his mum bought was particularly flavoursome. He placed the mug in front of Matty, standing behind them as he did so, wrapping an arm around Matty's waist as he leaned forward to put the mug down and pressing a kiss to the side of Matty's neck._

Matty's eyes were half-closed, and they were drifting over their friends around the fire. Marika and Amber were opposite them, quieter than usual as they drank in the end of the summer holidays, the girls impossibly close together with as much skin contact as possible.

Occasionally, Matty's eyes would fall on Olly. When this happened, Matty would smile awkwardly as their gazes collided, and Olly would look away, anywhere except at Matty. In all honesty, Olly was a little hung up on Matty. He knew that they'd only kissed, and that Matty was _happy_ with George and that they most likely loved each other - to whatever capacity sixteen-year-olds are able to feel love, at least - and that Olly had no right to fuck that up for them. And so, he didn't. Instead, he and Nick had found mutual comfort in each other, though for vastly different reasons.

_"I miss him, Olly."_

_Nick spoke immediately when Olly opened the door for him, the boy blinking slowly before pulling him through the doorway by the wrist and tugging him into a hug._

_"I know you do, love."_

_They had embraced for almost a minute before Nick unhooked his chin from the top of Olly's head and cupped his jaw, pulling him in for a long, simple kiss. When they pulled apart, they remained close, Nick's fingers digging into Olly's spine while the other boy's looped around his neck, fiddling with his hair._

_"Fuck it." Nick pressed their mouths together once more, and that was all it took for Olly to drag him upstairs to his bedroom. A mutual need comfort was all it was, at least in Olly's mind, and that was good enough for him_

_Nick found himself being pushed onto Olly's bed, feeling himself bouncing gently on the soft duvet, and then his clothes being pulled off by the brunet. Olly kissed him lingeringly on the mouth once more before trailing his lips down his jaw, leaving wet kisses and nibbling bites across his neck before sucking and kissing gently at the entire expanse of Nick's chest. He went to roll them over, to take over slightly, but Olly looked up at him, pausing his actions briefly to shake his head before returning to kiss down Nick's belly._

_Olly wrapped a hand around Nick's hardening cock, moving his wrist slowly as he kissed Nick's left hip before diving down to mouth at Nick's erection, taking him between his lips, his eyes lighting up at the little gasp and jerk of Nick's hips.._

_When Nick came, he took a moment before trying to roll over once more to reciprocate Olly's actions, but the brunet just shook his head once more and cuddled up into his chest, pulling his duvet up over both of them._

Olly was, of course, pretty put out about the Matty situation. He was ashamed, really - disappointed that he'd kissed someone who was in a relationship, not that he'd known. He hadn't been aware that he could grow to want someone as much as he'd wanted Matty in every way as fast as that, but he supposed that there was really very little that he could do. He wasn't going to sabotage Matty and George's relationship, he wasn't that kind of guy, so Olly gave himself up to trying to get over it.

He was aware that it was probably wrong to be using Nick as a sort of rebound, though Nick was using him in the exact same way, so it pretty much balanced out.

_When Olly answered the knock at the door, he hadn't expected to see Matty there, bouncing on the balls of their feet and fiddling with their fingers. Honestly, Olly hadn't really thought he'd see much of Matty ever again, but here they were, standing on his doorstep and looking up at him with a lip between their teeth and a frown across their brow._

_"Can I come in?"_

_Olly had stepped to the side silently, allowing Matty to scuttle through the doorway. Matty sat awkwardly at one end of the sofa, so precariously balanced on the edge that Olly was almost worried they would fall off._

_They were silent for a moment, Olly staring at them from the other end of the sofa with his arms folded around his belly, a little worried about what Matty had to say._

_"I think we need to talk about the, uh - the kiss. Just, you know. Clear the air." Matty's words shuddered slightly, their breath uneven: Olly could see they hadn't been looking forward to approaching him about this, but they knew they needed to and so they were here, baring themself completely._

_Matty's next sentence came out in a speedy, stuttering mess of a sentence. "I don't know what it, uh - what it meant you to - to you - but it wasn't what I wanted, I think you know that, and like, not to sound like a cunt but it didn't mean anything, you know? I mean, not to me, at least, I don't know what you thought but-"_

_"I know, Matty."_

_Their eyes wrenched up from their feet to meet Olly's and their lips stilled as they stopped themself from speaking again just yet._

_"It would have meant something to me if you'd been single - well, it did mean something anyway, really, but I'm not - I'm not a complete arsehole, Matty, I don't want to ruin anything, and what you and George have is great, and-"_ __  
  


_"So you agree?" Olly cocked his head to the side, a little confused. "You agree to forget about it?"_

Admittedly, Olly hadn't forgotten about the kiss in the slightest over the last two months, but he hadn't spoken a word about it to anyone. Nick knew, of course he did - he wasn't silly, he knew that Olly wouldn't normally have sucked his dick with no explanation, and he'd put two and two together, causing Olly to end up as a sobbing mess curled up in front of Countdown on the sofa with about seventy thousand blankets wrapped around him.. Of course, Matty hadn't forgotten it either, but Olly knew that if he tried to bring it up with them, Matty would swear blind that they couldn't recall ever kissing him.

 _Well_ \- Olly had spoken to someone about it, but that wasn't his fault. He hadn't instigated the conversation, so really, he felt that he wasn't to blame in the slightest. And he'd helped Matty if anything, so he didn't really suppose it mattered.

 _Nick hadn't really_ meant _to tell George about Olly kissing Matty: he assumed that Matty had already come clean about it to their boyfriend, and was more shocked than anything else when it turned out that George had been clueless. Honestly, Nick was disgusted with himself for revealing such a secret, and had felt properly nauseous when George had got up in a huff and slammed the door to Nick's house behind him._

_NIck knew it was a secret, of course, but he also knew that Matty wasn't really one for keeping secrets, and he just thought it had been a safe presumption based on that fact that Matty would have told George the second it happened._

_George hadn't really been angry with Matty, just disappointed with them and frustrated at himself. Fortunately, he never worked out that the reason Matty had come home and abruptly fucked George was to cleanse themself from kissing Olly, because he would have been a whole lot more upset over the matter if he'd figured that part out._

_George had gone straight to Olly's house when he found out - not to Matty's, much to Nick's relief, having seen how angry George had seemed when he stormed out. By the time he reached Olly's place, the exercise had calmed him slightly - enough to approach Olly like an adult rather than a petulant child who had just had his favourite toy taken away from him._

_Olly's eyes had widened when he saw George at his doorway, and he immediately stepped aside to let George in. The tall boy just shook his head and leaned against the door frame, prompting Olly to do the same: one foot in, one foot out._

_"What happened?"_

_Olly closed his eyes and looked at his feet before replying in a low tone. "I didn't know you were together. I kissed them, they didn't even kiss back. It was all me. Once they realised what was happening, they pushed me off and left."_

_George frowned, suddenly feeling awful for his anger, and stepped forward, pulling Olly into an awkward hug - his second foot slipping inside as he did so - and kissed Olly's cheek before pulling away. "Thank you."_

_George left straight after that, leaving Olly standing half in, half out, of his own house, a little confused about what to think and what the fuck to do after such an encounter._

_In the back of his mind, George was aware that Olly had lied to him: Matty wasn't one to just_ not reciprocate _a kiss, and George knew that, but he was grateful to Olly for giving him an excuse to think otherwise._

Henry came back out of the house from the toilet, bending over to kiss each of his friends on the cheek before straightening his back. "Mum wanted me back before eleven. Guess I fucked that up. I'll see you, I guess - will I?" Henry chuckled nervously, tugging his sleeves down to his wrists from where they had been rolled up.

"Course you will." Matty spoke, their voice cracking slightly from their quietness over the last hour or so. "I'll text you."

"Yeah." Henry smiled half-heartedly, knowing full well that he and Matty probably wouldn't speak much now that they'd be going to different schools. "Have a good one."

And with that, Henry turned to leave, his eyes burning slightly as tears began to well. He felt as if this was the start of everything ending as he turned away from the dying fire.

Henry had been doing okay, really. He and Joe didn't really speak anymore, and with Matty so preoccupied with George, Henry didn't really have anyone to talk to. That was okay. Perhaps after having so many people constantly crowding him for five years, he needed some time alone. He'd taken the summer holidays to learn more about all the things that he knew he was uneducated about: gender, sexuality, racism. In the back of his mind the whole time was what he knew Joe would say if he knew - that it was lame, stupid, and that he wouldn't make any friends by being nice, but Henry knew now that Joe wasn't going to be any help if he wanted to be a better person.

And so, despite the tears in his eyes and the few dampening his cheeks, Henry smiled weakly as he closed the front door quietly behind him, not wanting to wake up George's mum. He owed a lot to Matty, he really did, and the smile was more to persuade him that he'd be alright in his new school than anything else.

George twisted his head to kiss Matty's temple as he noticed them staring at the glass door Henry had stepped through to leave. "It's alright, love. You'll see him again. Promise."

George had always been conflicted about whether or not to tell Matty that he knew about the kiss. In one respect, he was aware that it was good to have everything out in the open, and that communication was a key aspect of every relationship, but at the same time, they were fucking sixteen. Their relationship might be serious, but it didn't need to be _serious_.

He knew that he properly loved Matty, more than anyone else, and he wasn't going to risk everything for the sake of a petty argument about a kiss that he was _determined_ to believe was all Olly, even if he knew it wasn't.

Eventually, Nick allowed his gaze to leave the pretty boy across from him, lowering his eyes to stare into the flickering orange light that Olly was so invested in. He missed Harry with everything in him, he really did. They'd not been a couple for long, but really, they had been together for years, just without saying the words. Harry had been the first crush Nick ever had when Harry moved to their town in year five, aged ten years old, and since then Nick had been completely smitten.

They'd been flirting for years, touching each other casually as much as they could and spending more time with each other than any of their other friends. Realistically, if anyone had seen them, they would have assumed that Harry and Nick were a couple, and they had both been content with that.

It had hit Nick hard when Harry left six weeks ago, but he supposed that he would eventually be properly happy without him. Olly was like a stepping stone to that. Yes, at the start, he had only started spending more time with Olly for the undeniable comfort that came with sex and the feeling of being wanted, but the more time they spent together, the more Nick realised quite how pretty Olly was, and how well their hands slotted together, how perfectly their lips interlocked, how special it felt when Olly ran his slender fingers through Nick's hair.

It would never be quite the same as Harry - he and Olly lacked a spark, and Nick admitted to himself that all his feelings for Olly were pretty much a forced placebo, but it would _do_. He had been happier with Olly in the last three weeks than the three weeks directly after Harry left, and Nick could see nothing wrong with it if it made him happy.

He had been so engrossed with the fire and his thoughts that the feeling of Olly's warm arm slipping around his waist and his head resting on his shoulder came as a shock: he hadn't noticed as Olly walked around the fire on his knees to get to Nick, missing the boy's eyes on him.

Nick placed a hand on Olly's lap, rubbing gently at the boy's thigh as the tired brunet drifted off to a half-seep. Nick smiled and buried his face in Olly's hair, breathing in the scent of smoke and apple shampoo that was just _Olly_ before encircling him with his arms and lying down gently so that he could also relax his body enough to sleep.

Amber and Marika had been mostly asleep for about an hour now, briefly waking up every once in awhile to rearrange their limbs so they didn't cramp up. Amber had blocked out everything excepts revision during exams, and the second she finished, Marika had dragged her to her house to watch shitting romance films and kiss lazily and drag their fingers across each other's skin. Marika was aware that Amber's dad hadn't really let up with pressure about exams, and it was a miracle that he'd allowed her to come here tonight at all. In fact, Marika was surprised that Amber was able to sleep this easily.

Amber knew that she wouldn't be sleeping at all tonight if it weren't for the comforting pressure of Marika's body against her own.

It was when everyone else had fallen asleep that Matty leaned up to whisper into George's ear, trying not to disturb the others.

"Can we lie down, too?"

George smiled gently at them, nodding, and slowly lay down, grateful for the blanket underneath them that protected them from the cold night-time ground. It was almost three now, the sky completely clear and covered in glittering stars. Matty placed their head comfortably on George's chest, lying on their side with one leg curled over George's as they draped themself over their boyfriend.

"It's so pretty," they murmured, listening as George hummed quietly in agreement.

"Prefer looking at you, though."

Matty blushed in the darkness, grinning helplessly and burying their face further into the crook of George's arm, practically in his armpit. Bizarrely, they didn't mind. Even the smell of George's sweat was just _George_ and that was a smell that Matty could adore, even if it was fucking disgusting. They would try to justify it by pointing out that pheromones are released in sweat, and so it makes sense to like the smell of your partner's sweat, but really, they just enjoyed the scent because it was purely George: something that could be produced by him, and him alone.

Matty and George drifted in and out of sleep for several hours as the fire died out completely, the gentle light dampening into darkness as the sky lightened with the promise of sunrise any minute.

Matty tugged at George's side, wanting to enjoy the sunrise with their boyfriend.

"Mmm? What is it, love?" George questioned sleepily, his voice groggy as he squinted his eyes open.

"Sunrise, Georgie."

George sat up once more, pulling his beautiful angel up with him to watch as the sun came up over the horizon. He kept Matty against his chest, his chin on Matty's crown.

When the sun had almost completely risen with both of them in silence, George tilted Matty's head to face him. "I love you, Matty."

Matty smiled tiredly, leaning up to kiss George deeply. "Love you too, Georgie."

The two kissed as the sun finished rising and the others began to stir with the light, never wanting break apart. They did, however, lips swollen, cheeks flushed, and eyes tired.

George pulled Matty back down to the ground with him once more, muttering a third "I love you" before lowering his consciousness back to sleep.

George was pretty much passed out as Matty lay on his chest, picking at the chipping, black varnish that coated their nails. At this moment, their kiss with Olly didn't matter, Harry leaving didn't matter, no one else there mattered. All that mattered to Matty right now was the rise and fall of George's chest, lulling them into tiredness once more. Matty's own chest swelled and their throat felt full as they realised quite _how much_ they loved the boy beneath them, and it was all they could to to press a chaste kiss to the underside of George's chin - all that Matty could reach - before burying themself back into the crook of George's neck and smiling as they allowed their eyes to close.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm a bit emotional about this ending, but there we go.  
> what a time this has been  
> thank you for reading <3  
> lots of love,  
> mikey  
> xx


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